


and in the end we breathe

by SenjuMizusaya



Category: Naruto, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angry Haruno Sakura, Angst, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Blood and Gore, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, F/F, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Haruno Sakura is Bakugou Katsuki, Haruno Sakura-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Moral Ambiguity, POV Alternating, Rebirth, Teenagers, Worldbuilding, an explosive one, mostly Sakura's though by far, this Sakura is a tank, with all the drama and hormones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-07 04:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21451987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenjuMizusaya/pseuds/SenjuMizusaya
Summary: Bakugou Sakura was a loud, angry girl whose hands sparked with violence and whose eyes gleamed with intelligence.Bakugou Sakura was a caring, impulsive classmate who pulled Midoriya Izuku to his feet and told him to prove them all wrong.Bakugou Sakura was a whirlwind of fire and ideas ready to take the world by storm: it was time to make good on her promise of others watchingherback instead.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Midoriya Izuku, Haruno Sakura/Kirishima Eijirou, Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo, Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako
Comments: 153
Kudos: 953
Collections: Identity Crisis, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. Transfer Student

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own BnHA or Naruto!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning Izuku refers to rumors about Sakura's last school being the weird, alternative kind (in Aldera language), because I figured Mitsuki and Masaru are good parents and realize there's something odd about her daughter and therefore send her to a school which is pro peace/harmony/zen etc. (Which would then end up being a bad thing in Aldera.)
> 
> Quirks have existed for many generations, yet the images we got from the first quirk child was from a relatively modern hospital. Therefore I conclude this was during the late 50s, and that these new superpowers made technological advancement much slower due to so many more issues arising. Let's say canon is set during the 2080s then, though it doesn't really matter. 
> 
> (PS, I have a fic in which she is more sensible/mature and school captain-y, but in this one she's merged with Bakugou who is Temperament incarnate...)

"_What the hell do you think you're doing?_" 

Izuku's messy head shot up, shoulders hunching and a jolt spasming through his fingers. He wanted to say something, anything, but the tang of metal was thick and nauseating in his mouth and his head spun with enough force to prevent such action. Dark green eyes found the one who'd spoken up: it was the new girl, the one who'd transferred to Aldera Middle in her third year. It had been a full week since start of term and comments as well as snickers about how her previous school had been an alternative, _special_ one had instantly rippled through the class and spread to the other students. 

"What?" It was the boy who'd kicked Izuku to the ground a few moments before. His teeth bared themselves into a smile. "Run back inside, weirdo!" 

"Yeah," his friend laughed, "everyone knows you have mental issues, otherwise you wouldn't have gone to that hippie school." 

The three standing boys laughed, the cackles blending into a single sound which had Izuku flinching away because he knew that sound, knew what they'd do, knew too much and he couldn't do anything because everything hurt but he had to- 

"H-hey," he tried, but the words were muffled and stained red. The three bullies didn't hear, or if they did there was no reaction, but the new girl -Bakugou, he was fairly certain- physically placed herself between him and the three other boys. 

His head swam, trying to process what was happening. 

"I don' care if you're a girl, freak," called the plump one, red wings unfurling behind him, "imma beat the shit outta you." 

"Yeah," laughed his lankier, extendo-finger friend, "just like you and all your weed-smoking commie friends deserve." 

Bakugou produced an odd sound which Izuku figured was a sniff of either hurt or indignation on behalf of her old classmates, but then it grew into rough, rolling laughter which shook her shoulders and took on an almost gleeful edge. Since he was sprawled on the ground behind her he couldn't read her expression, but the way her fingers were cramping and smoke started rising from the palms her hands didn't bode well. 

"You say that as though it's a bad thing," was her ringing answer, and then threw her right arm back and claimed the first punch: a magnificent right hook exploding against the plump boy's face with far too much sound, light and heat. He screamed, throwing himself back and curling into a ball on the ground, but not before Izuku caught a proper glimpse of burned, bleeding flesh. 

There was a pause, and then the two other boys hurled themselves at her with war cries tearing at their vocal chords. There was a collision which blinded him, and he closed his eyes as blood splattered across his face, laying down flat in the ground. He could feel and taste the thick, warm blood coating his tongue, feel the gravel beneath the palms of his hands and digging through his uniform, feel the chilly March breeze nipping at bruised cheeks which started pounding when the adrenaline wore off. The rustle of young leaves and rumble of distant traffic was drowned out by the drumming in his ears and the explosions, grunts and sliding steps of the fight he could no longer see. 

He almost wished his eyelids would melt together. 

"Bitch," one spat, followed by a strangled sound which morphed into a broken sob. 

"You're all fuckers who don't deserve the brain capacity to judge others in the first place," Bakugou snarled, then paused so abruptly Izuku assumed she was fighting again, and then the air shattered and ground trembled and heat wafted across his face: the greatest explosion yet rocked his world, loud enough to almost hide her roar of: "Shannaro!" 

And then, there was silence. 

Up until his ears recovered, that was, and the sound of hastily scattering students could be heard (there must've been a crowd, then), the rustle of baby leaves once again hymned in the background and an angrily honking car announced that the traffic was still existent. 

He opened his eyes again, feeling disconnected and odd, wrong. The sky was still blue and the clouds still looked awkwardly torn between disintegrating into slivers of mist and stacking closer together into cotton tufts. 

And then a face appeared above him, sudden and scowling. It was Bakugou, the new girl, the right side of her face sticky red which made her eerily bright lime eyes look like spotlights. Her pale hair -a shade too close to pink to be properly ash blonde- was pulled back into its usual messy bun, her bangs jutting out in all directions as though she were a hedgehog. 

"You good, Izuku?" 

He blinked once, twice, then resolved to say something to make a good impression- "Were people really druggies at your school?"

It was her turn to blink and Izuku really, really wanted to sink into the ground and wished osmosis was a possibility. The feeling was heavy and curdling in his chest. But instead of blasting him, her chapped lips stretched into a grin which made her eyes crinkle shut. A chuckle laced her words: "Not more than here." 

Then she reached out and before he could react, fisted the collar of his shirt and hoisted him onto his feet with ease. 

"You good?" 

"Um," he started, opened his mouth only to find words to be missing and reality still off and weird, "s-sure." 

"Don't look like it," she objected resolutely, clicking her tongue with a vaguely terrifying expression. "Why'd they fuck you up, anyway? Let's go to the nurse." 

She grabbed him by the wrist and stalked off in the general direction of the nurse's office, and that was how Izuku found himself trailing after a pretty, volatile girl and almost tripping over his own shoes. 

"Bec- because I'm, because I don't, I'm-" a sense of shame, old and familiar but no less taunting, seeped in like cold mist, "I'm quirkless but I'm still g-going to become a great Hero, the number one just like All Might and I'll always smile and... y-yeah." 

For a moment, the grip on his wrist tightened, nails digging into his skin even through the cloth of his uniform. For a split-second, the rhythm of her running steps wavered, was disrupted, and her head moved oddly as though she just managed to restrain herself from whipping around and facing him. 

But then she only went faster and her snickers filled the air like droplets from a tropical waterfall. "Sounds like you've got a plan!" 

Izuku's heart did a very odd thing at that, swelling until it was pressing against his rib cage and trying to escape much like a balloon, he was weightless and would explode and he'd float and his ribs would fracture- 

(Nobody had ever-) 

He stepped on his own shoelace and face planted, almost dragging Bakugou down with him. 

.

"It hasn't even been a week," Mitsuki whispered sternly under her breath as she passed Sakura on her way into the principal's office. The girl in question had been waiting just outside, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and lips firmly downturned into one of her infamous sneers. Worry twanged inside like an elastic pulled taut, but all it did was add more kerosene to the constantly growing lake inside, always ready to explode. Worry because of the tautness in her shoulders and the uneven nails, signs that pointed toward stress. 

(Once, so long ago it was almost only the phantom of a shadow, worry had made her cry and freeze, but now it only knew one outlet, had only one form, and if she cried she wanted her tears to burn holes into the face of whoever caused it.)

"Well they deserved it," she countered, following her mother into the room and sinking into the chair next to her. The principal was (unsurprisingly) a man in his fifties with graying hair and deep creases winging from his eyes and framing his mouth. At her old school it had also been a man looking as though he was nearing his sixtieth birthday, but he'd been more wrinkled with longer hair and warmer eyes which were probably imaging the hibiscuses in his garden and an old love from 1968: his quirk was slow aging. 

This principal might as well have ironed his suit onto himself and smelled of cigarettes. 

"I apologize for my daughter's behavior," Mitsuki started, bowing her head and hands safely clasped in her lap. "I-"

"Apology accepted," he said in a crusty voice, "though I hope such things will not happen on school grounds again." 

"Of course not," Sakura smiled, hard and small and twisted and knowing they were hoping for one of their students to get into U.A., "never on school grounds." 

"Sakura-chan," Mitsuki berated, not understanding, "never _at all_." 

"That would be the ideal scenario," intoned the principal with the patronizing curl of the lips and Sakura hated him hated him _hated him_\- "but you cannot expect too much from a fourteen year old girl who has such a powerful quirk." 

As though the fact that she was a girl made her unable to handle it. As though she hadn't wielded even more raw power in a past life wherein she'd been more than qualified to rip people's sternums out and proceed to behead them with it.

"I assure you she is capable of controlling it," Mitsuki ground out, "more than capable, in fact." 

"Naturally," he indulged with another smile. "You may leave now." 

And Sakura almost snapped because why the fuck should her mother (not quite but almost) have to drive all the way from her work for _this_?

(She couldn't get expelled again, couldn't put Mitsuki and Masaru through that, and despite reasons and excuses her logic and intellect sprouted -love, care, schooling, ambition, dreams- it boiled down to the fact that she couldn't do anything about it. And she hated it.)

.

"Fuck off." 

Izuku was rooted to the ground as he watched the three bullies bolt at the mere sight of her. Apparently Bakugou had been waiting at the edge of the street all along, waiting for him. 

Waiting for him. 

For him. 

Him. 

"How did you know?" Izuku asked, gesturing in their approximate direction. 

"Their kind is ridiculously predictable," she snorted, taking a step closer to him from where she'd shielded herself from the wind by standing close to the wall. Her cheeks were suffused with winter roses, the ordinary and sweet flush out of place on her otherwise hard, jaggedly smiling face. Her canines were entirely too canine. 

"Their kind?" 

"Walnut-brained shits who can't get over the fact that their dicks are tictacs. Where do you live? I'll come with you to make sure you don't get killed by a stray leaflet." 

Izuku was very certain he didn't want her to know that. He was also acutely aware of how this was the first time ever he was talking to a girl and that, possibly, she wanted to be a friend. He hadn't had many of those, not since kindergarten, and that gray speck which had started wriggling and spreading inside since starting junior high felt very related to that fact. He didn't like that gray shadow. 

Which was why he proceeded to give his exact postal address to the intimidatingly sharp-eyed, sharp-grinned girl in the short skirt and heavy army boots in front of him. 

"You're one of those who live in those gray apartments? Huh," she shook her head, as though storing that away, and then motioned for him to lead the way. "Never been there before, in any apartment at all actually. I live in a hut in the tree." 

"What?" 

"That's a joke, Izuku." Bakugou looked entirely too satisfied, eyes crinkling into a smile when he passed her. "I live in a house with a normal mother who is a Pro Hero usually on patrols and a kind father who works in rescuing. No pets, though turtles are definitely underrated."

"That's nice," he settled for, "I have a mother and-" _fudge_ he couldn't show her his room or else she'd know he was a fanboy- "that's about it." 

"Cool," she answered, walking next to him with audible steps due to her slight heels. No questions about his father. No judging. "You have music at home? And tea? It's pretty cold out here and I'm excellent at conversations." 

"Yes, of course," he swore, nodding, "we have sencha, black tea, chamomile, apple and a few more. And we have both a radio and a box you can plug your phone into." 

"Then we're all set," she said and he could hear the grin warming her words, not the off and bestial grin but the one which felt like tropics and rainforests. "You wouldn't believe how happy I am today is over." 

"I get you." And he meant it, still bruised and knowing Inko would bite the inside of her cheek at the sight to push back the tears in an ultimately futile endeavor. He let out a breathy, sighing laugh. "I really do." 

Even though he was half a step in front of her, he was aware of her keen gaze. He stuffed his hands in his pockets in search for warmth, shoulders hunching. Silence weighed down on them as they crossed the street, left the busy center of town and headed through the small park where two young kids occupied the swings with joyous shrieks Izuku figured he'd probably once been able to produce as well. 

"You know," Bakugou started as they reached the other side, the apartment blocks rising from the ground a few minutes away. "The world doesn't believe you can do shit when it comes to your dream, they all think you're useless and a failure. Unnecessary." 

Somebody had just taken ahold of his intestines and brutally twisted them around until his insides were a mess of ripped organs and blood. Lips parted but no words would leave, he wanted to turn back time and reject the girl who'd chased away the bullies a second time that day, yearned to squash the golden feeling of hope which had dared to peek into his life before it would be able to take root to ensure he wouldn't know how it felt to have it forcefully ripped back out again. "Ah."

"They'll laugh and spit in your face." 

As though they didn't already. 

"And grind you into the dust like a bug." 

"I get it," he piped up, words trebling and high-pitched, fragile in the air. "You don't- I get it already. But I- I won't give up, I know I can do it, you'll see. Hero schools students without quirks as well now!" 

She laughed and the sound of it was like raw heat scorching against his skin, and he didn't want her over for tea anymore- "And that's why you'll be one of the best Pro Heroes out there." 

His world flipped back over, hope was back and internal war raged as to if that was a good or naïve and stupid thing. Skepticism swept through him, directed against her. "You mean that?" 

"Sure do, otherwise I wouldn't have said it," she snorted, "it's because you don't give up and believe me, I know your type. You've just got that feel to you, even though it's almost smothered by all the layers of insecurity, jittery nerves and bruises. So when the world is a bitch, give her the finger and change it all. You'll be one of the best, but don't think you can beat me."

"Is that- should I say thank you? Because I feel like you insulted me just now." 

"I did? Well, truth hurts, sweetheart- _Oi! Where the fuck do you think you're looking, huh, you old goat?_ Tch." The second part of her statement was clearly directed at the man they'd just passed, who'd leered at Bakugou's butt which Izuku did not want to think about even if it was nice and round and that was wrong he shouldn't have thought that but it was true- 

They reached the stairs up to his apartment, which they scaled in silence. 

Once reaching his door down the corridor on the correct floor he struggled and fumbled when trying to fish up his keys from the depths of his bag. Finally he managed to find them and unlock the door, letting himself and Bakugou into his home and shutting the door behind them. 

"Neat," she judged, taking in her surroundings as she kicked her boots off, one landing perfectly in line with the other shoes but the other one, though initially standing somewhat next to its sibling, slowly fell to the side. She didn't correct it, throwing her pea coat onto the hanger so that it covered his mother's entirely. "Your mom here? Should probably say hi." 

She spoke in a very casual manner, peeking into the kitchen with naked curiosity. 

"Um, no, she won't come home from work until six," he informed her, carefully hanging his own jacket where it usually was, placed his shoes next to Bakugou's boots which he corrected so that they stood neatly next to each other in line -which only made the first one fall as though taunting him- and then slipped his slippers on before joining her in the entrance to the kitchen. "Tea?" 

"Fuck yeah," she cheered, skiing inside on her socks which slid easily across the lacquered floor. "Oh! Found the box, I'll put on some music." 

"Okay," he agreed even as panic struck at the thought of the complaints his mother would receive from the neighbors at whatever metal she'd blast. There were a few moments of silence, but then some odd sound filled the room: oriental and old which made him think of snake charmers and psychedelic hippies. 

"This is um, like The Beatles meeting India." 

"It literally is," she grinned toothily, turning bright bright eyes to him and pinning him down beneath the sheer alertness of them and excitement at his guess which had been meant as a joke or casual conversation. He wasn't much good with either. "Within You Without You is such an underrated song, together with Helter Skelter and I'm Only Sleeping. You like them? Let's just keep on listening to old music, that new shit is overrated anyway." 

All those names were unfamiliar and made him laugh somewhat nervously. "Sounds okay." 

"Of course it does," she stated after a moment, giving him an odd look. Her confidence was overwhelming, like a wall rising up from a turbulent sea and not giving a damn about how that was not even supposed to be possible. Izuku subtly opted for calming chamomile as tea, pouring the boiling water into the kettle and letting the herbs soak. 

When turning his attention back to her, he was met by the odd sight of her preforming an odd, absurdly relaxed dance which looked like a crossbreed between Egyptian stereotypes and Indian belly dancing. Something tingled inside, tickling and steadily growing until it bubbled up in his throat and tumbled from his lips: he laughed. 

It was wondrous and it almost made him cry because it had been far too long. 

"I learned to dance at my old school," she chuckled, rough and a little proud but something almost bashful tinting it. "You know, the one where everybody is apparently a communist druggie." 

He cleared his throat, trying to sober, "and were they? I mean, what was it like?" 

"Most schools around here have some people into drugs," she shrugged, "it was no different there. But, nah, not communist. That left-wing and right-wing squabble is old news and irrelevant. And boring, because obviously both communism and capitalism is shit. The real question is on the other axis, the authority versus anarchism one. Hitler versus, um, hippie dreams. We were hippie dreams." 

The image of her dancing clouded his vision again, making him muffle what was possibly a giggle. "You were a hippie?" 

"Not really. Slightly anarchist, probably, but it's more along the lines of me hating..." She gestured all around her, and he doubted she was referring to the small, neatly organized kitchen. "The system, the world. I'm angry at it because it's fucked up." 

"I want to be a hero to give people hope," Izuku heard himself share, "to make people believe in a better future in which everybody has a place and there's justice." 

"There's a serious lack of justice right now," Bakugou's teeth flashed when she grinned: the ugly, sneering one. "At the moment the world system is rigged and all wrong."

"Not _all_ wrong," he argued, "crime has decreased ever since All Might made his appearance and became the Symbol of Peace." 

Bakugou threw her pale head back and laughed. "I'm not talking about crime." 

"Oh." 

"Tea ready?" 

"Think so."

He poured two cups, spilled a little, handed one to the self-invited guest who he was having increasingly mixed feelings about (cool, awesome, terrifying, weird, unhinged, crazy, destructive), cleaned the stray droplets of the sink and then almost burned his lips and tongue when instantly trying to sip of the tea to distract himself from the tension settling around them. She, on the other hand, drank with greedy gulps before sighing, shoulders visibly sagging when she relaxed. He guessed her quirk made her more heat-resistant than the average person. 

A horrible sound suddenly filled the rooms and ricocheted off the walls. 

"Oh! Now it's Helter Skelter!" 

The song terrified him. 

.

He thought of the two of them as friends for a total of two days before getting over the rawness of her existence, of her way of speaking and acting. Then he labeled her an acquaintance who he, for a change, was on good terms with. No presumptions here. He got used to the sheer energy and force packed within her, or perhaps numbed to it, which allowed for a sense of trepidation to mingle with the handful of other confusing feelings he harbored: she was inherently violent, aggressive and harsh (among other things because there was always a part of him which adored her, was breathless, was awed). 

Three weeks into school, on March 28, it was the worst day yet. 

A broken body sunk to the gritty ground of the dark, piss and beer scented alleyway which was marred with cracks and graffiti. Seven people -he wasn't certain what they'd done but she'd gone from passing by to assault in a single second- were sprawled around her with blood and other fluids leaking onto the ground and part of Izuku shuddered both at the sight of their oddly bent limbs and the fact that those wounds would end up getting severe infections from being pressed against the dirty underground. And Bakugou _Call Me Sakura Already_ knew that without a doubt. 

Izuku swallowed thickly as she disappeared into the shadows. He should probably call an ambulance, but the sight of her eerily blank, dead face lingered in his mind. He'd never seen anything like it, especially not after a fight (and, unfortunately, he'd started seeing plenty of those: either that or her breaking the law anyway by threatening with sizzling fingers). But now she'd worn that face, had worn no face at all. 

Then he turned left into the tunnel away from his school, only to freeze in his tracks when the hairs on the back of his neck tingled and a low, hissing groan could be heard, followed by a terrifyingly squelching sound of something wet moving behind him. Something which had come from the sewers. 

.

Sakura couldn't breathe. Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes and her lungs expanded and inflated uselessly as though trying to pump nonexistent air into her system, and it struck her how unfair it all was, how wrong it was of these lungs to try so hard to keep this body which was hers but not really going. The crowd in front of her which screamed and stared was made up of familiar faces, there was Naruto and Sasuke and Kakashi and Tenten, staring back at her from a world away and fuck it all now she was hallucinating and _she hated it-_

Because this was it, and on her- 

It was all so fitting and clearly this was how the world worked, how irony kept on calling the tune and made her die on her birthday but it wasn't her birthday- this was Haruno's birthday but that person was dead and _she didn't want to die she wanted to live but Naruto was right in front of her and oh goodness **Ino-**_

"I'll kill you," was what she wanted to say but all which happened was the sludge villain's slimy hands first popping and then properly exploding and it did not just take her quirk, the bastard did not just do that _she'd fucking annihilate the asshole he'd be so **dead. **_

The faces in the crowd grimaced, twisted, Ino disappeared and Mitsuki's worried, exasperated expression replaced her, the crowd was her parents who weren't her parents over and over again, calling for their daughter even if she was only partially theirs, even if she'd been trouble from the start with too sharp eyes and eager fists and bad influences, they wanted her and _fuck fuck fuck that villain how **dare** he keep her from trying to comfort them and cheer them up with her cheesecake and presence and how on earth could she allow this to happen because she still had a **whole world** to blast!_

She broke free for long enough to take a few more gulps of air, barely hearing the Pros telling her to keep calm and hold on until somebody more suited to the task could arrive. Her body felt terrifyingly numb, as though her legs and feet were no longer part of her body. All which remained was her overheating chest and heart which thrummed with rage and power and her whirring mind. All she could do was fight against it, that much she knew: she wasn't brainless no matter what people thought when they saw a temperamental girl with a pretty face and slender curves, no matter her language because she was really damn close to being a proper genius. 

So she would definitely fight it, fight everything and everybody in her way.

Because she was Bakugou fucking Sakura, ex-ninja and current hero hopeful with so. Much. To. Prove. 

Her head was swimming. Shadows seeped into her vision, were pushed back, the pins and needles spread further up her body which was too moist, had far too much pressing up against her, grew weaker when her air supply once again started running out. Terror started setting in, accelerating her heart rate further which was not good, not good at all _there had to be a way to stop this_\- 

And then Midoriya was there, a hazy figure running toward her with such a desperate look tearing at his face it made her regain focus for another moment, lungs working furiously on the illusion of air, nothing made sense but there he was and the crowd was so far away, so shapeless, a faceless blob of people merged together. She blinked and there were books and pens all around her, Midoriya must have thrown his bag, and then he was right in front of her which surely couldn't be teleportation, everything was mottled and odd, he was clawing at the slime creeping up her face but it didn't help. Then he was gone again and Sakura wanted to roar for so many reasons and none. 

Then All Might appeared and it was over within seconds. 

Gasping for precious gulps of oxygen, reality once again took shape. The crowd was dispersing, in part to allow for space and in part because the audience had gotten their fill of hero work for the day. The realization that to some, she'd essentially been part of a reality show for entertainment filled her with a dead, calm sort of contempt. She'd been the damsel in distress. Then she realized she was sweating all over and that there were fires being put out all around her: that must have happened when that villain took control over her quirk (hers!). She'd have to be careful not to touch anybody, unless she wanted to slather a layer of nitroglycerin all over them. She didn't even entertain the idea of blowing up the perpetrator: she wanted nothing to do with it ever again, she didn't even want to be aware of his existence, wanted him gone. 

Wanted to go home and tell Mitsuki and Masaru how much she loved them and apologize for how distant she'd been that morning, wanted to tell them she'd never be odd on March 28 again, wanted to promise all those things she would probably not be able to keep in the end even though she'd try because she actually cared.

It started raining. She should probably say something to Midoriya, who was being helped up by a disapproving Pro Hero. (He deserved so much more from the world, why was it gems like him were always being ill treated, she had to help him and be there but at the same time she had her own plans, her own life, so many problems she shouldn't force onto him.) People reached her, strangers asking how she felt, telling her how brave and strong she was all the while others were scolding Midoriya in the background. He seemed to be okay, though shaken and wide-eyed: she should get his number.

"Fine," she shrugged, cold, with crawling skin and sweaty even though the rain made that less of a threat, wanting to take an eternal shower and scrub away the touch of it, the feel of it, the memory. And then she'd probably fight with some classmates in a couple of days about how she'd handled it. "All good, wanna take a shower though. That thing was disgusting as hell." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initial plan: keep this fic light. Reality: it progressively gets Darker with a capital D. Oopsies. 
> 
> I also think Sakura wrenched all control about the direction of this fic away from me. Literally.


	2. Entrance Exams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH you lovely, lovely lovelies. Your kudos and comments have made my day. 
> 
> Sakura is essentially Haruno's heart and brains wrapped in Bakugou's impulsiveness and rage. And to think both are also driven and easily angered, meaning that is amplified even more here. So a very tenacious, very angry Sakura who has ambitions to spare.
> 
> For future reference: Midoriya ended up with sixty points at the Entrance Exam, but Bakugou still got more.

"H-hey! Er- hi! Hello!" 

Sakura slanted a glance over the athletic line of her shoulder, spotting a positively radiant Izuku jogging after her. There were worrying bags beneath his evergreen eyes, but his skin glowed with a burst of love for life and something which was almost, but ultimately not, confidence. 

"Yeah?" She paused long enough for him to catch up, hands still in her pockets and bag slung over one shoulder. She'd hiked up her skirt as always and wore her heavy army boots as though they were part of her. "Glad to see you're doing good." 

He blinded her with a smile, which he then struggled to subdue into a more appropriate version considering the circumstances. "I'm okay- and you? Are you okay, I guess you're not because, um, yeah..." 

"I'm good," Sakura stated after a moment, arching a single pale brow. "You're being weird, though. Did somebody give you a million yen or something yesterday after the attack?" 

His face fell. "What? No, no o-of course not ahaha, why'd you think that? Not at all, that's r-ridiculous. Anyway! Are you, ah, sure you're completely fine?" 

He wasn’t very convincing. 

"Izuku," she started plainly, "yesterday I had a stranger literally pressing themselves between my legs and trying to, and I quote, _take my body_." 

"Oh, sorry, I never thought about- I'd never seen it from that point of view, sexual assault is horrible-" 

"I'm joking." Sakura shook her head, a smug smirk curling her mouth to flash teeth. "Trust me, the fact that it was touching my damn fine thighs was literally the last thing on my mind." 

She stuck out her leg for him, exacting her revenge for being lied to by embarrassing him. As expected, he turned red and averted his gaze as though admiring her muscled legs would burn him. (Had the situation been any different, he'd most definitely have been burned for staring.) Satisfaction at his spluttering tickled inside and made laughter spill from chapped lips. 

"Why'd you want to talk? Want to have me piss off your neighbors with Helter Skelter again?" 

"No!" 

This time she raised both eyebrows, head tilted dangerously and pale pink bangs casting a jagged shadow across her face. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

"I mean, that is not why I am here," he corrected slowly, deliberately, "I'd like to-" his confidence faltered and she could see his brain going into _overthink_ mode, "like, you know, um, to text, if you'd want, ah-"

"You want my number? Bold," she snorted, then gestured for him to hand over his phone. He did so with haste. She typed her number, adding no photo or last name, leaving her contact name as Bakusaku. Throwing it back to him (he barely managed to catch it, that clumsiness explaining the amount of scratches marring it), she added: "You're as smooth as the fucking park gravel." 

"Sorry." 

The instinctive flinch jabbed something inside of her, something sore and tender. Inflamed. 

"Jeez, don't apologize for everything! Shit, I'm no good at this but," she took a deep breath, thinking _channel your old empathy_, "be proud of who you are and what makes you, well, you. Sometimes it feels like you're weak and not good enough but, you _are_. Trust me, I know what I'm taking about, and you are definitely a good human being." 

He fixated a long stare onto her. 

She clicked her tongue, snapping: "Yeah I'm pretty fucking real, so stop eyeballing me."

"Sorry." This time it was still with an averted gaze, but he was clearly chewing on the inside of his cheek to hide a smile. An improvement, she reluctantly supposed. If he didn't want to tell her what had boosted him into such good mood, then fine- "Thank you." 

She blinked, correcting the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. "For what?" 

"For, um," he moved oddly, as though about to gesture or shrug but rejecting both options in the end, "saving me, and- yeah. Everything." 

"For talking to you, helping you, being somewhat nice, not melting the skin off your face?" She checked with something sharp and amused twisting her face but the slant of her eyes softening. "No prob. See you tomorrow!" 

And with that, she turned on her heel and was off toward her home, leaving Midoriya Izuku stranded in his own shoes beneath the cherry blossom tree which had almost completely lost all its petals and was taking on a dominantly green hue. She tried not to think about the amount of expressions which could war across his features, predominantly hope and wariness, and tried not to think about his meager contact list to which she had just been added. (He knew he'd have to send her a message in order for her to have his number, right?)

A.M. 

Bakusaku

Kaa-chan (Inko) 

Police

She wondered who A.M. was, if he could perhaps be the father (though wouldn't that mean he'd write tou-chan, judging from the way he'd referred to his mother?), wondered why the world would systematically squander people without quirks and knew the answer. It wasn't as though this world was that different from her last one. It wasn't as though humanity had changed- what had changed was that Sakura had arrived, flash-eyed and quick-fisted and hot-tempered. 

.

It took Izuku two days to send the first message, by which Sakura had started suspecting he’d forgotten he had a new person's (not quite friends yet) number on the phone. 

_Hi! This is Midoriya Izuku. _

_Do you have any tips for a solid training regimen? _

There was a three minute difference between the messages, as though he’d spent a long time with his thumb hovering above the _send_ symbol. The first thing running through her mind was not various exercises, but rather the fact that he’d noticed her muscles weren’t the jogging-twice-a-week type. That thought was followed by the question of why he suddenly wanted to know this. Perhaps encountering the sludge villain was spurring him on when it came to building himself up in order to be less defenseless, perhaps it had something to do with the sunshine of hope and new beginnings he was struggling to contain beneath his skin and behind his teeth. Perhaps he was a healthily developing teenage boy trying to look after himself, unlikely as it was. 

Midoriya Izuku was many things, but healthy didn’t seem to be one of them. He was too thin, too timid, too brittle edged with instinctive flinches and an erratically moving, averting stare. After trashing the idea of typing _sorry, I’m afraid you got the wrong number_ for shits and giggles (it was very tempting), she typed with obviously experienced thumbs and sent: 

_Depends on what you wanna achieve. Muscle building or flexibility or general condition? _

The answer was just about instantaneous. There was none of that three minute delay to even catch a whiff of. 

_Everything. _

Sakura bit her chapped bottom lip and grinned even as her eyes narrowed into acid-green slits. Her thumbs flicked across her screen while she absently swiveled in the chair at her desk.

_And what’s your aim? What do you want to achieve?_

He answered: _It’s hard to explain, I need to become stronger._

Hardly a satisfactory answer, considering the amount of interpretations ‘stronger’ could entail. She needed something to work with, and after a few moments of pondering and evaluating Izuku, his thought-process and way of thinking, she texted back: _What kind of stronger? Like a particular Hero?_

The answer came in the form of a picture, most likely a screenshot. It was one of the Number One Hero, All Might. He stood tall and buff, infallible, smiling with blinding teeth outshining with the sun (photoshop: his teeth were white but not _reflectory_, jeez). Sakura had a lot of criticism burning on her tongue and curdling her blood, but even she had to admit that this particular Hero was truly trying his best to help the world and not trying to compete, amass money and fame or using his influence to further his own power. It made her wonder what spurred him on, what kept him going, what his past was, if he was really all that straightforward. None of that could be found, his true name and identity remained a mystery shrouded by mist. He appeared and then disappeared. He was strong, the strongest, the one who always won. And if Izuku wanted to be more like him, the one who’d saved him (and _her_), then Sakura would try to help him.

Izuku had, after all, tried to help her as well.

_Well, I’d start by walking whenever possible instead of taking the bus etc, it sounds stupid but it’s great for the general condition and muscle mass. At school I’ll give you examples of squats, pushups and other exercises, I don’t want you fucking up while doing them at home. And make sure you eat enough and with great variety, and get some fucking sleep. It’s past midnight and I already know you’ll be a total shitwreck tomorrow. _

_But you're still up?_

_I'm a bamf that's why now SLEEP_

.

There were millions of people all around her, and all of them were criminals. This was not a wishy-washy conclusion procured by an equally dubious central for statistics, but a simple fact. And those who did not agree with her would first get all the perfectly understandable reasons as for why she was right, and if they still didn't agree they were plain stupid. 

Sakura did not like stupid people. (That was also a simple fact.) 

Knowing every single one of those around her in the café were criminals didn't bother the athletic girl: on the contrary, it was almost comforting. Even though they all sat in their own bubble with friends, family or on their phones, this was something they had in common. Everybody had stolen something from a shop when they were small, whether that be a candy or a plastic hair-clip, and everybody born with a quirk had used it without authorization, whether that be for practice or experimenting or even showing off. Many had told a lie with impact, such as covering for a friend who was skipping work or class, or broken the law in some other way (ranging from ignoring a red light when crossing the street to smoking a joint when at some party or drunk driving). She liked that they were (probably) all gray, that there were no real 'innocent, good civilians' here, no big bad baddies, no wholesome heroes. 

Sakura liked cafes. (Simple fact.) 

"You know, when you smile like that you almost seem normal." 

The light-haired girl glanced up with a mock surly expression. "Well I'm glad I look _almost_ normal then, can't have me fitting in for real." 

"Attitude," Fumiko chided, quickly taking another bite from her sponge cake to erase any evidence of the grin which had threatened to form. She was tall for her age, with silky dark brown hair and eyes which adapted their hue to compliment whatever Fumiko wore.

"You like it," Sakura boasted, necking the dregs of her coffee. 

"The headmaster didn't," the raven pointed out, "which is why you got expelled. How's Aldera?" 

"Fine." Her cake was brutally beheaded. "Just really fucking stupid." 

"That's nice, any friends?" 

"A couple, none as good as you." 

"I'm not sure we're friends." 

"I tried to be fucking nice you lil shit," Sakura sneered, eyes twinkling. There'd been other classmates at her old school she'd been closer to, yet it was only Fumiko who was decent at staying in contact and not loosing her phone. (She supposed she hadn't had a truly close friend for years.)

"I know," the brunette murmured, "I know. Hey, um..." 

The one with more vivid eyes waited for a few moments, then raised a single eyebrow. "Yeah?" 

"I mean, seeing as you were expelled, won't that... affect your application to U.A.?" 

Sakura studied her cup of coffee, discovered it was empty and clicked her tongue at the miserable sight, and then rested her attention on her more serious counterpart. "Nope. Illegality -recorded acts, that is- are a big no, but being kicked out from a school or two won't matter. After all, just because some unfortunate kid has ADHD or a disorder which fucked with their schooling shouldn't mean they can't become top notch Heroes." 

"You don't have any ADHD, though, and your disorder is called No Anger Management." A moment of silence, as though Sakura was waiting for her to make a point even though the gleam in her eye said enough. "So, um, you've been kicked out of schools before?" 

The green-eyed spitfire laughed, rich and warm and proud. She threw an arm over the backrest of her chair. "I was the worst first grader you can possibly imagine, a real shit." 

"How can you even get kicked out of first grade?" Fumiko asked, incredulous, the hand which'd reached for her lukewarm cup of tea stilling halfway. 

Sakura slouched in her chair, arm still slung behind the backrest, stretching her legs which meant her feet bumped against Fumiko's. The brunette in question simply moved her own feet further back to make space. 

"Well," the rosette started, "term starts right around that time when kiddos discover their Quirks, and I liked experimenting with mine. Blowing up chalkboards for fun ain't the best way to spend your free time. The teachers would get angry but 'cause they wanted a student from their school to become famous they didn't, you know, do anything other than smile and shake their heads. As though I was fucking retarded. So I blew up one of their desks." 

"Of course they'd think you're stupid if you do... things like that." 

Sakura grinned, too wide and with lidded eyes which resembled luminescent poison more than leaves. "Told you I was a shit. Then again, I'm still angry at them for being like they were but if I hadn't been recognized at I'd probably have been pissy too, so who the fuck knows?"

"Knows what?" 

Sakura thought about it, grin melting off to be replaced by something more serious. The cute café was filled with merry chatter and outside the October skies were blue and cold, inviting everybody out of their homes with the promise of sunshine. 

"Anything, really." 

.

Luminous green eyes fastened onto the five people huddling in the shadows behind the school wall. 

"When Deku comes past, I'll-" started one of them, and Sakura smiled viciously. 

"-not be here anymore," she finished, and the clique turned around with snarls only to scramble when eager explosions crackled along her palms. Satisfied, she waited for 'Deku' (_Defenseless Izuku_, she'd garnered) in question to pass by. She didn't have to wait for long: there Izuku was, nose buried in one of his trusted old notebooks.

"U.A., huh?" 

He whipped around, jumping so suddenly Sakura was surprised he hadn't accidentally kicked his own shoes off. His freckled features twitched and twisted with a defensive sort of panic and pride. 

"Y-y-y-yes," Midoriya nodded, dark curls flying and tucking away his notebook into his bag, "I'll g-go for U.A., it's the best school out there!" 

"Yeah, I know that," Sakura deadpanned, coming to stand next to him. "You gonna stand here all day or, you know, get the hell out of this shit stain of a school any time soon?" 

"Um, let's..." he motioned toward the street and with a roll of her eyes they started walking again. Next to each other. Sakura wondered what Midoriya was thinking, because his forest green gaze kept on flickering to her and then up ahead again. 

"Jeez, if you're so worried about me tagging along all the way home you could've just said so," she snickered, stretching her arms above her to yawn before continuing. "I was just gonna walk you halfway, I've got a life of my own you know. Not always gonna be here to pat your back." 

"You... don't pat my back, though," he pointed out, then winced. "S-sorry-" 

But Sakura threw her head back and laughed, slapping his shoulder which made him stumble. "Now I have! Anyway, what're you applying for?" 

"Hero Course." 

So he was taking _that_ route. General Studies sometimes produced Pros as well, but she should've figured that wasn't an option he'd go for. U.A. might've modified its rules to fit something more progressive, but from what Sakura had heard the Hero Course entrance exams still required _that something extra_ which essentially meant Quirks were still a must. She could help him now by by nudging him into the direction of General Studies or simply a Hero School which wasn't so reliant on brute force -he was smart, he'd make it- but somehow the words kept on getting clogged in her throat like too many hamburgers in an artery.

Finally, something escaped: "Good luck!" 

She was such a sucker. 

It wasn't as though they were friends or even knew each other that well. 

But she supposed knowing that other loud, orange-blond kid from a lifetime ago meant she wouldn't be the one to discourage him, not when Midoriya had such heart and head. 

"Th-thank you!"

"What's your plan?" Sakura asked, genuinely curious, observing him from the corner of her eye. Her hands were fists in her pockets, sweat gathering. "Sneak attack?" 

"Well," he started, clearing his throat when his voice cracked, "um, I was thinking I'd, you know, go there and see what the- the exam is like, and figure it out from there."

Sakura pursed her lips. "Right." 

"Mhm." 

She didn't want him to be slaughtered. 

"Listen carefully 'cause I'll only say this once, but when you throw a punch, at least make sure your thumb isn't tucked into your fist. That's a good way not to break it," she advised curtly, shot him a look and -after wiping her hands on the inside of her pocket, he was getting special treatment by avoiding nitroglycerin on his brow- flicked his forehead.

"Ow!" 

She snorted, "no way in hell that hurt you." 

"Well, um," he started, hesitated, reconsidered, "a-anyway I was going to wish you luck... b-but, I mean- you don't need it." 

"Nah, I don't need that kinda stuff," she agreed, tucking a strand of hair which'd escaped her high bun behind her ear, "it's power which matters, which makes you win."

He went quiet, visibly lost in thought. 

"Also, bend your knees to absorb the impact if you land after a fall. Well, this is my turn," she yawned when spotting the street name, "see you around, Izuku-kun." 

And just like that Bakugou Sakura turned on her heel and sauntered away. 

.

Robots. 

Non-human and literally there for her to destroy. 

Sakura had never gone all out before. When young she'd experimented with her quirk, learned what it was and how it worked, but it wasn't as though she'd ever just catapulted herself against a big chunk of metal and blown it up as flashily as she could. (The flashiness was a welcome side-effect, not an active choice.) The more points she racked up the warmer and sweatier she became, and it meant her explosions rocked her even further to the core, scorched hotter against her skin, made her heart beat even faster with adrenaline and the euphoric, satisfying joy of letting loose and just demolishing everything in her way. 

(Some distant memory rattled, _art is an explosion_, and really, whoever had said that wasn't wrong.)

She'd always known her explosions would make her ricochet -that had been why she'd spent so much time building muscle mass, to be able to withstand the recoil- but within minutes she realized that she could blast herself up into the air. And it was an delirious feeling, of catching a glimpse of what the world looked like from above, _**from the top**_. 

This time around, she'd make sure to be the one to protect and be strong enough not to have anybody's back in front of her. 

A blast toward the ground and she was flipping far over a 3-pointer, slanted eyes zeroing in on the neck where the damage would be the greatest and blowing the bot right in two, the severed head hitting the ground with a metallic clank. 

_That makes twenty-six points_. 

The landscape Sakura was being tested in was industrial, filled with pipes and drab blocks and winding passageways: having passed various training grounds on her way to the one she'd been directed to, she knew they were all of different design. She figured she'd reached the center of the gray maze, because this road was a little wider and there were even more robots here than in the beginning. 

All the more points for her. 

Two more explosions and she was surging toward the next one, almost casually vaulting over a one-pointer with one hand which blasted it to shreds beneath her, and then used the sheer force of it to leap to the next robot which shattered beneath her, fizzing and charred. 

She landed again, combat boots hitting the concrete with a thud. Four more closed in instantaneously, and she let them approach, mind whirring and excitement popping in her veins. She raised her right palm toward them, planted her feet further apart, left hand closing around her wrist for support, and then- 

Red and orange exploded in front of her, engulfing the four bots and searing satisfyingly against her skin even as the recoil made her right arm ache and bones groan, the sound of the blast and smattering of debris filling her ears. 

_Thirty-five_. 

There was so much power literally in her hands, yet her own body wasn't strong enough to release it all yet. Frustration and anticipation mingled and seconds later, she was leaping toward the next robots with a grin stretching across her face to almost painful extents. 

Sakura roared. 

And Sakura burned away anything in her way. 

_Thirty-nine. _

The wind blistering along her arms, heat-resistant skin only sooty, a blast behind her to send her careening feet-first into a two-pointer which fell at the impact, an explosion below her to send her back into the sky and her left hand angled itself toward a three-pointer and shot it right in the eye. 

_Forty-six._

A blast made a one-pointer tip over onto an other robot, and Sakura catapulted herself there to kick away a pure of scrap metal hurtling towards an invisible girl (a floating pair of shorts and crop top with sneakers, really: even if it was to compliment her quirk, it'd have to be cold) she'd failed to see before and then she ran forth again, aiming and blasting and thriving. 

_Fifty-two. _

Sweat glistened all over her body, gathering wherever it could. Her jersey had long since been discarded, leaving her only in a rust-brown tank top and black sweatpants which'd been tucked into her boots. Scorch marks dotted the hem.

_Sixty-three. _

Her breaths were ragged pants her chest was heaving for every breath, smoke rising around her from the fallen bots and severed cables hissing with electricity. Somewhere far away, commotion broke out when a gigantic robot appeared. 

_Seventy._

Muscles burned satisfyingly and her fingers were starting to twitch from the amount of times they'd endured the brunt of her blasts, a thirsty longing for more pounding inside.

_Seventy-eight. _

Knees bent to absorb the impact when she landed after jumping off a ruined three-pointer, broken machines littering the ground. Then she was off again in a flurry of fire and sound. 

"TIME'S UP!"

_Eighty-nine_. 

"Shannaro!" 

She fist pumped, teeth bared into a feral grin: she had no idea how many points her contenders had racked up, but she'd be damned if she hadn't aced this, if she hadn't _killed_ this. 

.

"Wakey wakey," Sakura smiled pleasantly, fresh out of the gym showers U.A. had put at the disposal of any examines who were in need of it, pale hair out of its high bun and leaving a damp stain on the back of her coppery shirt. "Wakey wakey _now_, Izuku."

Izuku blinked groggily, dark eyes finally focusing on the toned girl sitting next to his hospital bed. "Wha-" 

"I'm here to take you home, and I'm lowkey sick of sitting on my ass," she informed him, ignoring the way he gawked at her moist hair currently hanging down the sides of her face like pearly waterfalls. "Apparently you woke up a while back before falling right back asleep after Recovery Girl healed you, remember any of that? There is a right answer, by the way." 

"I remember," the short boy assured, spacing out again which convinced Sakura he had indeed woken up before and probably had a lot to think about. 

"Thank fuck," she nodded, scanning his bedridden form with a critical purse of the lips, "you must've been busted pretty bad for you to still be here. What happened? You get crushed under a lump of metal or something?" 

He rested his green eyes (darker, softer than her own) on her for a moment before nodding: "Um, something like that. A-anyway, how'd it go?"

"I'm a badass on her way to the Number One spot," she smirked, flexing her fingers, "how about you?" 

He turned his head away, and her smirk faded as silence settled between them. He hadn't done very well, then. She'd known that having no quirk was a shitty setback, especially for power schools like U.A. or Shiketsu, but still. Reality sucked balls sometimes. 

"C'mon," she settled for, "I'll buy you a coffee with double cream on the way back, it's U.A.'s loss. 'Sides, there are other schools out there." 

_It's not over yet, _she wanted to say_, you can still get in._ But she wasn't a moron or a liar. So she stood up and walked up to the door, pushing it open and waiting for Izuku to pull himself together and get out of bed. Reluctantly, he started moving, starting the timely process of tying his shoes. "Snail."

There were a handful of people at U.A. still, and one of the passersby paused when spotting her, recognition flashing in his amber eyes. He must've been at the same training ground as her, though she couldn't recall anybody like him: golden hair with a black lightning streak, white smile, lean. 

"Hey! You were really cool out there" he started, approaching her with a friendly air once done with his once-over, "I bet you took out at least thirty of 'em." 

"Yeah," she agreed, "to both." 

He laughed even though she doubted she'd been very funny. "I did pretty well myself, so I was wondering if I could buy you a coffee- future classmates and all that." 

He winked. 

Sakura deadpanned: "I'm having a coffee with an other idiot already."

He looked doubtful, "really?"

"Yeah, so piss off."

Her eyes gleamed and he took a step back, managing a last smile. "Aight aight, I guess I'll... see you around!" And then he legged away. 

A few moments later, Izuku reached her, eyebrows knitting together. "Who was that?" 

"Literally nobody. Let's go before you get yourself fucked up again," she decided, walking away without checking if he was following. Naturally he did so, twiddling his fingers. When they reached the end of the pristine, airy hallway, she muttered: "Also, I still think you'd make an awesome Pro. After a good dose of training." 

_'Cause right now there's not much to you, 'cept for that head_. 

"Do you really think that?" 

Dejection and doubt was thick in his voice. It made her fingers curl and uncurl, sympathy making fury flare hotly in her chest. "Told you so already, didn't I? Never said it'd be easy, but if you make it, you'll be pretty damn awesome." 

She threw a glance over her shoulder. 

"Though I won't be giving up the Number One spot, twerp." 

"T-twerp!?" 

Sakura threw her head back and laughed, rough and rich. "Would you prefer Deku? Defenseless Izuku, eh?" 

"No," he said quickly, shaking his messy head as they stepped out into the evening air, descending the stairs away from the main building together, "no, that's fine, you can just, you know, um... forget about that?" 

She snorted, zipping up the flattering jacket which she knew for a fact made her waist look dramatic as hell (which it also was, of course). "You know, you shouldn't let them keep calling you that. Just punch them and make it stop, or make it something else." 

"Right," he sighed, "I'll... figure something out." 

Her hand flashed out, flicking his temple. "You better." 

"Ouch!" 

"There's no fucking way that hurt you." 

He shook his head, but her heart went all soft and porous when he finally smiled again. This was what friends were for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then she discovers he's been "lying" about not having a Quirk.
> 
> Dekusquad is Izuku, Ochako, Iida, Tsu and Todoroki. Sakusquad is in the making, but so far Jirou and Kirishima are locked in^^ Two slots remain, and the ones I'm considering are Kaminari, Mina, Sero (all three official Bakusquad), Shinsou and Hatsume.  
The ones absolutely banned from joining are any Dekusquad members (because principles), Mineta (aomsdbxowgi), Monoma (he'd die in the presence of class 1A) as well as Hagakure and Ojirou (bff AND future canon couple I swear). 
> 
> (okay now i want a squad w all the people im actively considering shhh)
> 
> ALSO, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER I MANAGED TO CRAM NINE MONTHS INTO A SINGLE CHAPTER!!!


	3. Combustion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm a bit more on time with the update this time around^^ 
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for the kudos and bookmarks, and for every comment which made me smile.

The official letter accompanying the hologram-acceptance into U.A. read very similar to its audible counterpart, which'd starred a radiantly beaming All Might in a yellow suit (which must've been of a very flexible material). 

_Bakugou Sakura, _

_We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the Hero Course at U.A. High, a three year course which will equip you with the skills, knowledge and mannerisms of a great Hero. Term starts Monday the 4th of April, please find additional information about hours to watch on the next page. The financial declaration and additional information is attached in the letter as well. _

_You scored 87% on the written exam, which is harmonized between all courses. We congratulate you on reaching the top ten results of this year. During the entrance exam itself, you earned 89 points by incapacitating the robots as well as 10 rescue points for preventing a fellow student from getting injured by the debris, making it a total of 99 points. You have the highest score of the year and second highest score in the past thirty years: the current No. 2 Hero, Endeavor, scored a total of 101 points at his entrance exam. Congratulations on the outstanding results. _

Sakura stopped reading around there, already slipping out the financial declaration and anything else her parents needed or would have to sign out of the envelope. The letter wasn't telling her anything new, anyway. Up until the halfway point of All Might's (much more flamboyant and energetic) speech Sakura had felt both proud and a little stingy about the fact that it was 99 and not 100, which'd have been a nice round number, but 100 was still less than 101. Which meant she wouldn't have been happy with that either. 

"I made tea," Masaru called from downstairs, voiced muffled by her door. "It's sencha!" 

Sakura could hear her mother shout something back and then walk down the stairs. Mitsuki had always love green teas, and her dad was very good at making them. She liked it as well and should head down to hand them the papers in any case, but couldn't bring herself to stand up from her chair. 

Instead she remained seated, absently fiddling with the hologram device. 

Bakugou Sakura was fifteen years old, had always wanted and known she'd go to U.A. and become one of the best heroes out there just to kick ass and kick the world a bit along the ride. There should be a golden rush of triumph: at least, more than the initial sparks which'd bubbled to the surface when the _pleased to accept you_ part had rolled along. There'd been a moment of satisfaction and the beginning of euphoria, but before she'd been able to properly ascend, before the glee had filled her up, it'd fizzled out. 

Melted away. 

It'd been two weeks since the exams: she almost felt cheated by her own lack of cheer. 

"No thanks!" Sakura called instead, to which Mitsuki snapped something back -something along the lines of not being cooped up- but let her be. 

She wasn't cooped up. It was a large and airy room, three of the walls white and the fourth one a pale beige, with simple furniture and large, open windows with red curtains fluttering in the breeze. There was a bookshelf filled to the brim with books, a cupboard on top which there was a spread of different makeup and deodorant and the likes, a wardrobe with mirror doors, a simple bed next to a packed desk and the mandatory clothes-packed chair in a corner.

She wasn't cooped up. 

Outside the wind was humming a merry tune in the bare branches and YouTube was playing some Beatles song from her computer and the curtains were dancing and she'd been accepted to U.A., so Bakugou Sakura _wasn't cooped up_. 

But there was still an odd weight in her chest and unrest frazzling along her nerves, discomfort whispering _Izuku Izuku Izuku_ and _Hero dreams_ in her skull and a cursed _99, 100, 101_ racing along her veins until all of her was sizzling and she just wanted to demolish a park. 

Instead she sucked in a harsh breath (which actually kind of hurt her nostrils), exhaled more slowly, then carefully placed the letter and hologram atop of the most prominent stack on her desk. Next to the stack and attached to its charger, her phone lit up with a message from somebody. She didn't touch it: it wouldn't say _read_ that way. 

Sakura spun on her chair, thoughts syrupy. 

She should probably close her window, it was cold outside. And check up on Izuku tomorrow at school. Oh, and send an email to her grandmother about her acceptance, and inform Fumiko who was patiently waiting for an update, and throw away her old sports bra and gym shoes which had grown too small, and there was still an essay for geography due for tomorrow. 

The old shit could wait until tomorrow after school, the email and message she'd send once she didn't feel so odd, the essay could be at midnight with the help of that energy rush sleepiness could give her, and she'd hand the paperwork to her parents tomorrow.

Sakura went to close the window, feeling the chill nip at her cheeks and surveying the empty, darkening street outside before shutting it. 

She sunk back into her lazy desk chair, spun again and let the chair slow to a natural, slow halt. A craving for coconut and chocolate arose for a moment, but then it morphed into longing for passion fruit sorbet. 

Then that was gone as well. 

Maybe she'd eat cookies while writing her essay. 

The green-eyed girl hadn't realized how long she sat there until she realized YouTube had autoplayed its up-next long enough for some old childhood movie soundtrack to pop up. Just a piano and violin, conjuring memories of beautifully drawn movies and times when ice cream cones were huge and slides took so very long to whoosh down on. 

"Yeah," Sakura muttered, "fuck you too." 

.

Izuku had the dry eyes and rather dumb expression of somebody who pulled an involuntary all-nighter, which was vaguely concerning but also understandable. 

Sakura's lips parted, hand raising as she spotted him in the corridor, but when he stared through her with a brain probably speeding miles and hour on sleep deprivation she simply tossed her bangs and sauntered on toward her classroom with heavy, black leather boots and flashing eyes. One of the boys already sitting at his desk went a little red, averting his gaze with a both terrified and softening expression. 

She didn't even know his name, after almost a year of classes together. 

She doubted he'd ever said more than _hi_ anyway, so that was okay. 

The class filled up, Sakura stared out of the window (there was a grandpa walking a dog twice his size), Izuku eventually waddled in, and finally the class went quiet and zipped to their seats. The teacher had arrived. 

The grandpa and his oversized dog rounded a corner. Sakura found a cat licking its paws to observe instead. Cats were better than dogs, they didn't pant around your calves all the time. 

Izuku kept on shifting and fidgeting. Even if he sat two seats behind her and one to the left, away from the window row, she could actually _feel_ it. And sometimes hear it, too, a quiet rustle. The cat must have heard it too, because it glared and disappeared. 

By the time school was finished, Sakura had handed in her hastily constructed midnight essay which she knew for a fact was very original and good, Izuku had napped three times, a dove had slipped from a branch but managed to fly away before crashing. 

And during lunch break she'd threatened a classmate who liked first years in skirts so harshly he’d taken a down the stairs and twisted his ankle. (And it'd been two months since the last incident, too, she'd genuinely been trying- Mitsuki got a sighing call of warning, _again_.) 

The rosette saw Izuku leave the school gates, yawning, and was about to let him walk home to get some rest and time alone. She hadn't wanted to speak with people yesterday and she'd been fucking _accepted_. This was the one time she had to be sensitive and, er, diplomatic or something. 

So she didn't call out in front of the entire school, nor stomp after him, but rather sped up and caught up with him -as planned- at the crossing where they usually parted ways. 

"Izuku," she called out. He jumped, turned to face her, blinked back to attention, and searched for words. He was pale beneath his freckles. She'd never noticed before, but he must've started wearing a larger uniform size because he didn't have a boy's slight frame anymore. 

"Oh, ah, Baku- er, Sakura-san! Yes, um, I meant to speak to you I promise but today's just been weird and I, um, I guess- _figured_ I wanted to be, you know, awake, when I..." he trailed off, sheepish and exhausted and a mess with an intense light in his eyes and something building up inside. 

Maybe she should've waited until tomorrow, because he was in a bad shape. She wasn’t so heartless as to press for answers from a sleep deprived friend. 

"Yeah, don't worry," she interrupted, smashing whatever had thrummed within him to pieces before he could say it, "seriously, I'm just- you know, _you know_." 

He regarded her for a moment, blinked, then nodded hesitantly. "Uh, yes, okay, well..." 

He shrugged, searching for words. 

"Their loss," she maintained, patted him on the shoulder, cleared her throat. "If you ever want to talk, or whatever, something... fuck it, just know you can talk to me, alright? It's okay. It's just a shitty system." 

"Oh, actually, I think the system i-is understandable," Izuku said, "I mean, y-you _do_ need power and notable results to be a Hero today." 

She clicked her tongue before she could stop it. "Maybe it's because of criteria like that that Hero society is the way it is, a vicious cycle of power and flair."

(Three top heroes.) 

(Three flaws in society.) 

He cocked his head to the side, averting his gaze, made some minuscule movement she suspected was a shake of his head. 

"Then again," she grinned to lighten the mood, something she otherwise rarely tried but this was Izuku, "I guess my quirk is real suited for today’s Hero society, huh?" 

"Yeah," he said, "it is." 

"I have to head home, on dinner duty today," Sakura continued, "you got my number if you need anything." 

"Yeah," he said again, shifted, sucked in a deep breath, "actually, um..." 

"Yes?" 

His soft, dark green eyes flickered up to meet her lighter, sharper ones. "A-about U.A., and when I injured myself, and the point system, and the last months of training since the Slime Villain and- I don't know where to start I... something happened after I tried to rescue you and... there w-was this feeling I guess maybe and suddenly, um- I mean, the entrance exam..." 

He sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather his thoughts and formulate something even when his brain was a jumbled mess which had been running for over 30 hours straight. 

"Hey, it's okay," Sakura interrupted before Izuku could start stammering something neither could make sense of, "just tell me tomorrow. You look like lobotomized train wreck on crack, so go home, drink that weird-ass chamomile tea of yours and just close your damn eyes and sleep. _Please_." 

He stared at her for a moment. Then he swallowed and looked down. "Okay." 

She gave him a nod of approval. 

Izuku walked away. 

.

The days later he hadn't called her but regained his normal parlor and sleeping habits, as well as the ability to form proper sentences and take his mind boggling notes. 

Sakura stood with three of her classmates who'd given their opinion when she'd searched for more boots and she'd advised on what beanies and earrings to buy, smirked, snorted, said something mildly nasty about a rising hero who liked publicity. 

One of them laughed while another gaped. The third hid a snicker behind a well-manicured hand. 

When Izuku walked by, she waved. He waved back, a waver in his step.

About to approach. Eyed her glossy friends. 

Decided against it. 

(He gave her his pen in class when she lost hers. Nobody else did that. Nobody in Aldera was this close to her.)

.

A day later they ended up walking together on their way home from school, discussing the latest movie. 

"I actually kind of liked it," Izuku murmured, a smile lifting his lips, "there was just something hopeful about it- about discovering you had a quirk after all." 

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. 

Oh shit, that out of all things couldn't be what he pinned his hopes on, right? Sakura hoped not, and cursed the fact that she was trying to be sensitive around this. She still hadn't bragged about her acceptance into U.A. right in front of him, nor had she really asked him what he'd do now. 

"I mean, it's not impossible," she supposed slowly, "he was only nine years old, after all. That was actually one of the worst parts of the movie, he was too young to be able to act and it was so. Annoying. That, and his cliché as fuck flying quirk. They didn't even give it a drawback." 

Izuku was quiet for a moment. "I guess." 

"And it was predictable that his older brother was the villain hacker." 

(They'd named him the villain in the movie. He hadn't been particularly evil, or committed significant crime.) 

.

"Uh, no way," Sakura gave her mother an incredulous glare, bright orange tea cup steaming, "mint is definitely the better green tea." 

"Jasmine," Mitsuki repeated with her own cup of tea in her hands. "And I don't think mint counts as green tea, anyway." 

"It's green leaves in hot water, so it's green tea," Sakura argued, then craned her neck to where Masaru, brown haired and eyed with heart-warmingly clunky glasses, was sprawled in the couch in front of the TV. "Tou-chan! Tou-chan, tell mom mint is a green tea!" 

"Yes, sweetie," he called back distractedly, "of course." 

"Masaru!" Mitsuki snapped, outraged. 

He jerked into an upright position. "What?" 

"Is mint a green tea?" 

He glanced between the two women in the kitchen, made the connections, and laid back down. "I happen to think all teas are good." 

(Izuku preferred chamomile tea.)

.

It was graduation. The frost had melted away and everything was getting ready for spring and a fresh start, all of which lurked just around the corner. The cherry blossoms would be in full bloom in two weeks' time -which was when high school started- and all the white flowers along the avenues would glow in the April sun. 

But as it was the late March air ghosted along her skin and suffused her cheeks with pink. The ceremony was already over, classmates in freshly washed and pressed uniforms milling about and talking to their (generally speaking) proud parents (though it wasn't rare for only the mother to be there). Most had already said goodbye to their friends: she had, too, hugged the trio of girls who she'd gone shopping with maybe two times and the boy who'd always blush at the sight of her and give her his notes if she lost any, and she was going to say goodbye to Izuku as well. 

After coming back from the principal, who wanted to congratulate her personally on getting into U.A., that was. 

It felt weird but not at all sad to walk the deserted corridors of Aldera to visit the gray, smoky old man who'd only ever shaken his head at her and puffed chuckles at her accomplishes. Up two flights of stairs, down the corridor, last room with the white door where there could be a maximum amount of windows to open in order to hide (unsuccessfully) that he sometimes still smoked inside. 

When she walked inside, he smiled up at her from his seat with sincere joy and pride, creases deepening. The mustache he was trying to grow was ugly, but today was graduation. Today was peace. 

"We're just waiting for one other student," he said, and Sakura blinked. She didn't know of anybody else who'd gotten into U.A.: maybe somebody from the B or C class had gotten into Shiketsu? Sakura was fairly sure she'd have heard of that, but it wasn't impossible. 

A minute later, Izuku entered the room. 

Their eyes met, and in them Sakura could read a thousand words and none. 

She turned away, suddenly high-strung and rigid with cinders waking up inside but rational explanations shushing the heat, facing the principal. Izuku came to stand next to her. She felt confusion rise within her, no answers within her grasp, and it frustrated her to no end. 

The principal's mustache looked every more stupid now. He started talking about how U.A. was prestigious and had abysmal acceptance rates and all sorts of things, every movement making the hairs above his upper lip look more and more horrible and holy fucking shit she just wanted to rip them out _(because Izuku was here and it wasn't making sense unless it actually was which meant- which meant she- he-) _

"Congratulations to both of you," he was saying, "I'm so proud that two students from Aldera have gotten into U.A. High, and I hope to see both of you fulfill all of your- vast potential. Your futures as heroes are bright."

Sakura could breathe in reality, but it almost felt as though the air inside her lungs was a whirlwind of fire because why hadn't he just told her, why hadn't he, why was Midoriya Izuku not telling her that he'd achieved the dream (and _how_, how the hell had he gotten in, how how _how had he done that!?_), and it was building up inside until she was certain embers left her lips with every exhale. Every carefully controlled exhale. 

The boy next to her had bent his head. 

The principal talked a little more, Sakura bowed her head as well and they chorused a dissonant "thank you very much", and then they left the office. 

The silence in the corridor was deafening, her eyes glowed, emotions and disbelief (and oh dammit there was that wet, overpowering sense of betrayal and of not being wanted) clogged everything inside. 

She wanted to grab his collar and shake him and scream and tear an explanation from his throat together with some other things, and her hands were already steaming. But not at school, not with Mitsuki and Masaru proudly waiting outside, not with a future fucking classmate (oh, hahaha _haha _**_ha_**). 

He was breathing shakily, trying to find words and explanations or some kind of bullshit, but she frowned and shook her head. Her hair flew at the movement. She'd spent time in front of the mirror that morning, brushing and straightening but leaving her bangs to jut in all directions, because that was the only place she found her unruly spikes to be kind of cute. 

That effort felt ridiculous now. 

Sakura gestured for him to follow her, and he did. Down the staircase, out of a smaller back door to a forgotten corner of the school where they'd be alone. The sun stood high and uncaringly cheerful as always, but the walls around them cast a shadow of privacy. 

"So," she said, hands in her pockets and sweat gathering, "you got into U.A.." 

Izuku swallowed, staring at some spot over her shoulder. "Y-yeah, but I-" 

"Is the wall that interesting?" Sakura interrupted and couldn't care less if she'd startled him, "did you do a lot of staring at walls before I came?" 

He flinched, averting his gaze to the ground. 

Her smirk was a cut across her face, eyes squinted with emotion. "Did you do a lot of staring at the ground when they called you Deku? Funny, you were on the ground when we first met. You got problems with people?" 

"No," he protested, and the sound of everything just pissed her off and every sensation and thought ricocheted off one another inside her until she was bubbling with rage and hurt and a jaded kind of humor, "no I- Sakura-san, I promise I wanted to t-tell you and I tried to tell you but you..." 

Usually she let him have a moment to find his words. It never took more than a second. 

She didn't want to waste seconds. 

"But I what? What did I do wrong, huh? Was I pushy, terrifying? Would you have preferred me pissing off?" 

_(She'd kind of seen glimpses of that orange-blond boy, Naruto, in him before, but for a moment all she could see were cold onyx eyes and a dismissive curl of the lips and it made her want to explode.)_

"No," he said, stronger, "I'm s-so glad we met, I really am, but things got complicated and I wasn't sure where to start or how to start and we both thought I had failed the entrance exam-" 

"Yes," Sakura nodded, "because that's what you told me, and not getting any points _does that sort of shit_." 

"But I got points in the end," he blurted out and her fingers twitched, "I got a lot of points for rescuing somebody-" 

"I got points for that, too. Ten rescue points. You don't get into U.A. with a dozen points." 

"Sixty," he rushed, "I got sixty points!" 

Sakura hated taking a pause, but at the same time felt a little relieved. The immediate fury ebbed away, replaced by a simmering hurt and confusion. She hated not knowing, not understanding, and had to push back the urge to avert her gaze. She kept it firmly on him. "Why didn't you tell me about this? I... thought you'd be an excited puppy about that." 

"I was, _I am_, so excited I couldn't sleep and I wanted to tell you the next day but you told me to go home, and after that I just didn't know how to tell you and the more time passed the more difficult it became, and suddenly three weeks had passed and now we're here." 

"And now we're here," she repeated, shook her head and cursed her flying hair, cursed the pretty earrings dangling from her ears. "Guess you can rescue like a motherfucker, huh?" 

Izuku let out some odd noise, something between a wince and a laugh. "Yeah, but no, I mean that Zero Pointer was pretty terrifying." 

"Oh," she said, stomach churning and head heavy and veins tickling, "you rescued somebody from the Big Bad. That's a shitload of points, I guess." 

He cleared his throat, then sucked in a deep breath. "I actually defeated the Zero Pointer with my quirk and rescued somebody that was and its drawbacks landed me in the hospital." 

At first, the dots wouldn't connect. Then they all did. 

Her insides scorched and her body would burst from what it had to contain and everything tickled beneath her skin like little hatching spider eggs, and now they were crawling all over her with their skittering burning legs and something _snapped_. 

"I- discovered my quirk after I tried to rescue you from the Slime Villain," he rushed to explain, hands clenched into fists as though holding onto something, "I guess I'm a l-late bloomer, or maybe I just never did the right thing which made me realize it existed but then it happened and now I have it." 

"You have a quirk," Sakura echoed, tilted her head, smiled. "You've had a quirk for almost as long as we know each other." 

He watched her. "Y-yeah..." 

"And you didn't tell me you got into U.A.." 

He shook his head, messy ivy curls flying. 

She observed the jittery fifteen year old for a few moments longer, something and everything building inside, and then she burst out laughing. It hurt her throat and she had to pull her hands out of her pockets. Her hands were popping and thin tendrils of smoke rose from them, and very soon she'd run completely out of the hysterical laughter. He took a step back. 

She wasn't smiling anymore, pupils like pinpricks.

"What held you back from telling _that_?" 

His voice was but a whisper. "I promised I wouldn't tell anybody."

"Promised? _Promised_?" 

In a flash she'd closed the distance between them and had dragged him up by his collar, hissing into his face: 

"When you walk into U.A., were you planning on being quirkless?" 

He shook his head, irregular breaths fanning her face. 

"Were you planning on being open about it's existence like everybody else is about theirs? Using it when it's meant to be used, training it during class, all that jazz?" 

A pause. Then he nodded jerkily. 

"Did you think I wouldn't get into U.A.? Did you think I wasn't good enough and that you could just get away with it?" 

A very quick shake of the head. 

She scrutinized his face and didn't even care that she was leaving scorch marks on his uniform and reddening his skin. Her heart was thudding and her blood was on fire and she wanted to bash his head against the wall until he'd never hurt her again.

"THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LIE TO ME, HUH!?" Sakura raged, jostling him around. "WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST HAVE TOLD ME ABOUT IT YOU NERDY LITTLE SHIT!? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" 

"You don’t understand-" he started, and she dropped Midoriya to the ground. He lost his balance and fell. 

"I do understand," she sneered, cracked her knuckles, and walked away to rejoin her parents. 

.

The curtains were drawn and her door locked, the hour late enough for the world to be asleep. 

Sakura sat in her desk chair. 

Had curled into such a small ball with her arms wrapped around her legs, that maybe the universe wouldn't see her for a moment. 

Buried her face in her knees just in case. 

Felt acid tears burn down her cheeks. 

.

During the two week break, Midoriya started out by calling her thrice a day at ten in the morning, one o'clock, and four in the afternoon every day. She ignored him: had a final cup of tea with Fumiko who was moving to Akita, went to the river with the three girls from school, worked out in the park and in the garden. 

After four days, he started calling less regularly at more varying hours, but soon he went back to his regular calls. 

They were starting to get on her nerves and she didn't even want to begin to think about how infuriating his behavior would be at school, so the evening before U.A. would start, she picked up. 

"Hey," she said, and she could hear him choke with surprise. "Yeah, I picked up, that's the point of making a call, dipshit." 

"_R-right_," he agreed, "_listen I-_" 

"No," Sakura cut him off with a tired sigh, "you listen to me for a moment. I'm not even that angry at you right now and I don't want to waste time hating your guts for every stunt you pull the coming three years. You could have told me about that pop-up quirk of yours, but you didn't. You could have told me about U.A., but you didn't. Granted, I didn't ask and was a little assumptive, so that one's only 90% your fault. Here's what we do. You stop calling and bothering me, I'll stop imagining ways to hang you with your own intestines." 

"_Saku_-" 

"Seriously."

"_Please j-just listen_," Midoriya's desperation was so audible it made bile rise in her throat. 

"No thanks," Sakura declined, "point is that I wanna have three damn good years and I don't want to spend time or energy on you." 

"_I'm so sorry_-" 

She hung up before he could get to the _but_ part. (A whole year at Aldera and she'd never realized that it'd been a whole year of growing closer to Izuku until his face had been synonymous with the coming day.)

.

It took half an hour to get to school. Five minutes to speed walk to the train, twenty minutes on it, then five minutes uphill from the station to U.A.. Classes started at 08:45, and she was at the gates at 08:31. 

Pale pink hair up in a bun with messy bangs framing her face. Clad in the formal gray uniform, splashed with the red tie and golden-yellow buttons. She'd spotted a handful of other U.A. student on the train, most of which older but some which could be in her year: a ginger with bright teal eyes and a boy with matte purple hair and bags beneath his eyes. 

The U.A. main facility was a large building consisting mostly of glass, nestled between verdant oaks with cotton-like cherry trees blooming all over the grounds. There were other buildings scattered around the vast grounds as well, but from where she stood in front of the main building, she couldn't spot those. 

A lithe girl with short violet hair and dark eyes was glancing around her with telltale curiosity, a familiar blond boy with a bright grin next to her. A short little boy was gawking at everything -mostly girls- around him. The ginger from the train was already approaching somebody else taking in his surroundings. A redheaded boy with a shark-like smile walked past with a giggling, pink (very pink) girl skipping ahead. 

A deep breath, excitement singing inside. 

Bakugou Sakura was ready for this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, the childhood piano-violin soundtrack I imagined is Ghibli music, although Ghibli wouldn't have existed in this universe.
> 
> When planning the story all that time ago, I’d initially planned to have Izuku tell her about getting into U.A. after only two days, but when I channeled the early BNHA Izuku and started writing he just wouldn't do it. So I changed things up and I'm fairly satisfied, against all odds. I understand how it could've happened, considering their personalities.


	4. Startline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've researched Sakura and Bakugou and have now officially finished plotting out Bakusaku's entire character arc. complete with milestones. Because we love that. Because she's still a fifteen year old girl. Because everybody changes and evolves. (And I know you'll always find similarities when you want to see them, but adjhfkl I Saw Those Similarities.)
> 
> Also a huge, huge, huge thank you to you all for the wonderful support and response to the last chapter! It's such a boost!!! I can't even put all those feelings into words, just.... t h a n k y o u.

Izuku _hated_ himself for even wondering if he'd be relieved should Sakura end up in Class 1-B. It ate away from the inside, a thousand rodents scurrying around beneath his skin and biting down, a feeling which'd manifested since graduation. He should have told her right away, should have found a solution, shouldn't have choked back words and explanations, shouldn't have faltered under his own vision of Sakura as somebody out of reach, somebody so bright and terrifying and ethereal in her intensity, in her way of being, a league of her own. 

Because she'd been right and would always win no matter the situation and context, a fact as obvious as him being wrong and losing. 

(But no, not as obvious anymore, because he'd still gotten into U.A. and that was a victory.) 

A deep breath, a thought about all the people inside with those amazing quirks and histories and prospects, and then Midoriya Izuku walked inside. 

Today was a fresh start. 

From today on, he'd never screw up a friendship again. He'd never lie by omission but keep up a plausible story to protect All Might and the secrets behind One for All, he'd keep on striving to save people and do his best. 

Today was a new day. 

A fresh start. 

A new slate. 

One where he wasn't Deku the quirkless heel who stumbled over his own words and feet. 

One where he would be Midoriya Izuku, a Hero hopeful who'd keep on grinding his jaw to make the world a better place and risk his life for it, a student in the U.A. hero course, a boy who was part of society. 

Izuku slid the door open, and the first pair of eyes he saw were poisonously green ones that told him that Bakugou Sakura would not be giving him a fresh start. 

.

Jirou Kyouka didn't see herself as a particularly complex person. She liked good music and the tragically under-supplied genre of psychological action movies and series, particularly dystopian anime, and wanted to contribute her few cents to making the world a better -safer- place. She liked red and black eyeliner, both of which she used to paint details on her cheekbones (today they were twin scarlet triangles), and fingerless gloves. She didn't like loudness, old noodles, whining and drama. She wasn't certain exactly what kind of job she wanted as a hero: her quirk could be used to locate people in need, sure, but she was considering a somewhat more adventurous career in the cities. Perhaps saving people from villains? That seemed like a good compromise between battle and rescue. Natural disasters weren't her thing, at least not if it was out in the countryside. 

During the mandatory messy minutes before class started, during which students acted like idiots and zipped around like they wouldn't have time for that during lunch and were all slightly too noisy, Kyouka picked a seat for herself in the middle of the second row. A good spot. Close enough to the front to catch everything the teacher said without having to worry about being singled out for being either that front-row kid or that back-row kid. Or the edgy window kid.

Not that those stereotypes seemed to have followed into U.A., but she'd rather be safe than sorry. 

In the back, one of the boys started laughing too loudly. 

Kyouka switched up the volume on her phone, familiar music drowning out the sound. 

(Maybe she should go talk to them, make an effort to befriend-)

(Or maybe just stay here and spend the first day getting used to the new environment.) 

The classroom was slowly filling up. A tall, broad-shouldered boy with six arms and a blue mask covering his lower face sat in front of her, and an ordinary-looking one with rather large teeth and dark eyes sat behind her, and on his desk sat a golden-haired boy with a white smile who Jirou suspected had left his bag on the chair to her left to reserve it. To her left sat a girl with white-pink hair in a high bun and spiky bangs framing scowling face.

The plain raven and the golden boy were already immersed in their conversation. The guy with too many arms and too much height and bulk seemed to be lost in thought. When the door opened the girl's narrow eyes latched onto the poor boy who'd just entered with a look that screamed, _we've got bad blood_. 

The boy swallowed, but walked in anyway and was soon obscured by a tall young man with flashing glasses and a curt voice. 

The girl looked out of the window again. 

Kyouka did not want to be judgmental but she still found herself musing, _it seems that edgy window kid still exists_. 

It made her smile briefly. 

That smile fell when Aizawa appeared and announced they'd all be taking a quirk apprehension test on the first day, meaning they'd miss orientation, and that the person who scored lowest would be kicked out of U.A. High.

.

Sakura had always felt things intensely. The emotions would stir and smolder, then be ruffled and rise and whirl and ricochet and become a flurry of fire and sparks, becoming inseparable for one another and burning hot. The image of her past self, a tiny girl filled with promises of becoming better she could never realize, with teary eyes and backs always obscuring her vision from standing before anybody else, from standing on the top and being able to be the one protecting, and the fear that she could end up like that again. 

Fear that she'd once again promise to be the strongest but then be faced with the emptiness of those words. 

Fear, a shadow lurking behind her. 

But it was relatively easy to avoid as long as she never slowed down, as long as she kept on going, as long as she pushed herself and broke and healed and blasted her way forward. And the adrenaline of charging on, the _determination_, of having bloody fists and scarred knuckles and energy thrumming inside like a mistral of fire, was almost addicting. The feel of it would pulse and burn until cinders would smolder in her eyes, _eyes which she'd never allow to look anywhere else but ahead at her goal_, and a grin would cut across her face and in the midst of action Bakugou Sakura would feel at home. 

This was what she was meant for. 

She'd never be weak again. 

She'd become the strongest, because that was what standing on top meant. 

And when she had all of that, it'd mean she could help others, because being able to help was one of that past her-Haruno's few redeeming qualities. 

(Past her but still her yet not, somebody who'd shouted for somebody else to save her when she didn't have the power to do so herself.) 

The world was all wrong: fame and glory and shallow lives skating on gold and marble, excuses for those in power and the existence oh Heroes, however shallow they were, meaning the ordinary person didn't have to do as good, be as brave, stand as tall. Now the Heroes could do that for them. 

Three top heroes, three flaws in society. 

Sakura had always felt things intensely, with a shadow behind her she was going to outrun and finally outshine to obliterate it once she was the best, and with fire inside which exploded in her hands with willpower and drive. She loved her parents and remnants of memories from past loved ones flickered in the back of her mind, faded with time, and the few good friends she'd made were also held close, nestled deep in her chest. A girl named Gina in kindergarten, a select few from elementary and middle who she'd appreciated at the time but lost contact with, and then it'd been her year at Aldera. 

Her final year at Junior High. 

It wasn't as though she'd ever described Midoriya as her best friend -being best friends was a special feeling- but she supposed that in theory he'd been her closest friend. He'd been her only good, real friend there at least. 

Sakura had always felt things intensely, but those emotions would usually swirl and whirl and be hard to make out: instead she'd feel energy budding inside, fields of blooming flames spreading out. 

Midoriya had been her closest friend, and while they didn't agree on much at all and she'd felt responsible for him at first and then genuinely come to care. It wasn't as though Sakura has ever sat down to think, _man, that Midoriya _(Izuku, back then)_ has really grown on me_, but in hindsight all those little things she'd done for him which she'd never done for others suddenly struck her, little platters of rain against her bedroom window. 

Sakura had always felt things intensely, and betrayal was included. It stung together with the notion of not even having been worth telling about this great news, of not actually having meant much or been important, of being disregarded, and it all bundled and whirled and ricocheted. 

And the result was fury. 

Scorching. 

Spiteful. 

Done with chasing after guys who hurt her. 

So when Sakura threw the softball it was with a "_shannaro_" and explosions which had everybody ohhh_-_ing at her score. She knew for a fact she could've thrown it further had she just worked up a sweat before. 

"At U.A. we do things differently," Aizawa droned as he pocketed the measuring device again, "the tests you've been put through in the pasts were irrational, a remnant from the past when we could pretend everybody was equal. Now it just needlessly holds those with power back, as I'm sure the ministry of education will learn soon enough. In order gauge the true extent of your current capabilities you need to push the limits of your quirk. I'm sure some of you already discovered new ways to utilize your abilities during the exam, something you might have done much earlier had it not been for all the rules and restrictions keeping you from exploring your power." 

She could feel Midoriya's gaze on her. Soft dark green, gentle. He was standing between the bespectacled guy with engines in in calves and the rosy-cheeked brunette with cheerful smiles as though they were all already friends. 

She turned away.

Sucked in a deep calming breath. 

Suppressed the sudden urge to slug him for just standing there like that as though- as though- 

.

Once the quirk apprehension test (fucking third place, her swirling thoughts and feelings were no excuse, nor was the first and second place students being admitted by _recommendations_ or whatever) was over and done with -nobody getting kicked out in the end- and Aizawa had given a short lesson about U.A. rules and regulations as well as some dry advise about priorities, it was lunch time. Due to the regular role calling brought by the test, Sakura could now usually stick something resembling a name to each face. 

Her classmates seemed to have remembered her well, though. 

"Wow, you even got first place on the entrance exam! Way to go," a familiar golden boy spoke up when she passed him, tray in hand. Kaminari D-something. A D for sure, at least. His eyes were a warm amber and his smile bright: hadn't he been the one to ask her out after the entrance exam? He scooted over a little, digging an elbow into the exceptionally ordinary looking boy with straight black hair and large teeth: Serin, Seno, something like that. "You can sit here, if you'd like." 

The raven in question smiled. 

"Right," Sakura started absently, scanning the other occupants of the table and brain still speeding with _competition, friends, quirks, combinations, weaknesses, strengths, why is the broccoli so perfect._ There was a nice looking blond boy with dark eyes and a tail there as well, Oji-etc, next to which a (probably) petite invisible girl sat, Hagakure. An invisible girl... "Hey, you the one from the exams?" 

"Yep," she chirped in a high, bubbly voice, "you were totally awesome! I'm still like, _gosh darn it, should've been able to jump away_, you know, but still! I passed, though. Actually, I was rather nervous today as well, my quirk really wasn't ideal for this physically oriented tests." 

Sakura hesitated for a moment longer -_a nervous mutter and chamomile tea_ echoing through her mind- but then ground her jaw and sat down. She was going to have to sit somewhere, anyway, and they didn't seem like total assholes. 

"I can understand that," Kaminari sighed, tilting his head, "I mean-" 

He started talking about the cons of his quirk and Sakura started eating her scampi and broccoli curry. It tasted really good, and she was certain it had a great balance of nutrients. Midoriya had probably gushed at the sight of Lunch Rush preparing- 

She'd seen first years get starry eyes at the sight of the cooking hero. 

The plain one, Sero apparently, was now talking about the Japanese Ranking for Heroes, which'd been released only recently. Naturally, All Might stood on top with impossible margins. 

"Well, it's All Might," Hagakure giggled, "I almost feel a little sorry for the others, but on the other hand..." 

"It's All Might," Ojirou filled in. 

"Exactly," she chirped, then took another bite of food which simply disappeared into thin air. 

"Most of them don't even consider the possibility of surpassing him," Sakura said, poking around her food for another scampi. "So of course the difference in Ranking between All Might and the others in the Top Ten is significant." 

She found her scampi. 

"Sure, but hey-" Hagakure's voice rose a few pitches with excitement, "wouldn't being a Top Ten be awesome! I know it's best to be flashy for that, but... I'd still like to get there one day!" 

"Yeah, man, that'd be awesome! Good luck," Kaminari laughed, then nudged Sakura with a widening smile, getting slightly too close, "you'll be aiming for a Top Ten spot as well, amirite?" 

She took the time to swallow before answering. "No. Pass me the water." He blinked, but did so and as she refilled her glass of water, she continued, "I'll be aiming for _the_ Top." 

"Whoaaaa," Hagakure gushed, sleeves moving and an applauding sound clarifying that she was clapping her hands together in excitement, "that's so cool! I mean, your quirk is totally awesome and you're, like, pretty too! Guys guys guys, wouldn't it be cool if many from our class made it to the Top Ten? We could be called, um, a generations of stars or something!" 

Sero laughed, "it would be something." 

"Something _awesome_," Kaminari enthused, to which Ojirou just shook his head and chuckled:

"Of course I'll be doing my best, but I don't think I've ever heard of a genius generation or class. Just look at how many Heroes and hero courses there are, there chances of some of us being in the Top Ten is just really unlikely." 

"Don't say that," Hagakure complained, leaning forward, "mood killer. There's a first for everything, and if any school can pull it off it's U.A. don't you think! We always go Plus Ultra! Ahhhh, I've always wanted to say Plus Ultra as a U.A. student!" 

.

"How was school?" Masaru's voice drifted from the kitchen when Sakura opened the door. There was a cautious curiosity to his words, a tinge of joy. "Did you ma- like U.A.?" 

"It was nice," she said, slipping out of her shoes in the hallway before padding into the kitchen, "and _yes_ _tou-chan_, I heard that. I'm... making friends. I think." 

"Aha I s-see that's great and it's only the first day so you need to get to know them first," he said, hiding his face from by sniffing the pot of stew he was preparing, then reaching out to pepper the simmering dinner more, "on my first day in high school, I accidentally spilled all of my soup on one of my senpai. Today he's my best friend." 

Sakura came to stand next to the gentle brunette, noticing that in his insistence to stare into the stew his glasses had fogged up entirely. "Are you telling me to dump my food on people?" 

A pause. "No." 

She choked back a laugh, but patted his shoulder instead. "Dinner smells really nice. Extra coconut flakes?" 

Masaru looked as offended as his bear-cub face allowed him to, "it's not _extra_ coconut, it's exactly the right amount-" 

"I won't tell kaa-chan, don't worry," she said before he could ask her, "I'm going up to change, I'll go for a run in the park." 

"Make sure you're back on time," he nodded, reaching up to take his clunky glasses off, "so that you can shower first. Mitsu-chan doesn't like you sweating-"

"Yeah yeah yeah," Sakura agreed, already on her way up to her room, "no nitroglycerine on her cutlery, I get it!" 

.

It was by pure accident that Sakura overheard the conversation. It was the second day and she'd been passing by -making a point of not paying Midoriya's little trio any attention, pointedly scanning the area for empty seats which she found next to Jirou and Todoroki, who ate in silence- when Uraraka said: 

"But doesn't Deku sound like dekiru, _can do it_? It's an insult, oh my gosh I'm so sorry, it never occurred to me." 

"Deku it is!" Midoriya squeaked, face going red. 

One word from a cute girl and he was ready to take the slur and change it around. Sakura's lips tightened, eyes flashing, but then she breathed out slowly and simply set down in front of Todoroki, managing not to slam the tray down onto the table. 

She didn't feel like talking. 

So of course Jirou side-eyed her and asked, "you always look so moody?" 

"Only when there are morons around." 

The slender girl snorted, "you'll get wrinkly like a prune." 

"You saying I haven't gotten those yet?" Sakura shot back, stabbing the innocent fish with her chopsticks. "Good to know." 

.

"I still can't believe we have All Might as our teacher," Ashido gushed excitedly in the changing room, jumping around in only her skirt and bra as she talked which seemed to embarrass and fluster Jirou, who'd changed into her Hero costume in the blink of an eye. "I mean, I knew he worked at U.A. now but to have him out of everybody? And for Basic Hero training? He said it himself, this is practical heroing 101-" 

"I can't believe we are going to train for battle on the second day," Uraraka spoke up, slipping on her pink boots, "it's kind of exciting, you know, but it also makes me a little nervous." 

"Understandable," Yaoyorozu, whose costume _had_ to be that minimal for quirk-related reasons when considering her until now scholarly but somewhat shy personality, "using our quirks has always been somewhat taboo, and now we're going to use them for combat on the second day." 

"Do you think we'll try them out on dummies first?" Asui wondered, "the only time I've used mine on a person has been when I throw my little sister into the water during summer." 

"That's adorable," Hagakure giggled at the mental image, to which Ashido agreed:

"Yesss. I kind of want to fight people, to be honest! It'd be super exciting, don't you think? Oh, oops, I think the neckline is a little low, but I guess I look pretty fine anyway, huh?" 

The pink girl twirled around, showing off her curves in the green and purple body suit. 

"Yeah, I probably should have specified a little more with the tightness of mine," Uraraka chuckled nervously, pulling at the stretchy material with a bashful but not mortified look. "I mean-" 

"Wait," Sakura said, pausing with her lacing of her gray combat boots, "Hagakure, please tell me you're not naked." 

"Well, yeah," the invisible girl said in a _duh_-voice which obviously masked embarrassment, "otherwise my quirk wouldn't be very useful." 

Something inside of the girl churned: surely there had to be a way to keep her from running around naked. Currently she only sore boots and gloves, both of which she'd have to take off eventually, meaning she might have to run over gravel on bare feet or sit and hide in some unhygienic place to wait for an ambush. 

"But don't worry," Hagakure continued, "they're making a costume for me out of my own hair, it should be ready within a year or two. There are some other at U.A. whose quirks have similar problems, so..." 

"A... year or two," Sakura repeated. For a moment, she felt helpless. Then, "that's actually really shit. Are-" _are you okay with that?_ No, of course she wouldn't be okay with that, such a stupid question. 

"It's fine," she answered, "ahh, you all look so cool in your costumes! Wish I could look so flashy, it's great for statistics and rankings! But, well... oh, you know!" 

"You're not alone in not being flashy," Jirou shook her short hair, clad in heavy speaker-boots and a leather waist jacket over a pair of black pants and faded shirt starting to look salmony in color. "It's just not my vibe." 

"I think everybody here looks cool," Uraraka promised, smiling sweetly, "I'm sure all of you put thought into what went best with your quirk and image when submitting your deigns and requests." 

Ashido laughed, grinning widely and throwing an arm over the petite girl's shoulder to pull her close, ruffling her chocolate hair. From what Sakura had seen so far, the costumes (or lack of costumes) that went best with the owner's quirks were Asui's, Jirou's and Hagakure's: she had yet to figure out Yaoyorozu's. Although biased, she also thought her own was very quirk-complimentary: the color theme was a dull gray for her boots and gauntlets, black for her pants and shirt and rusty-orange highlights along the hems and cuffs as well as her gloves. 

"I think Mina-chan is still the most eye-catching," Asui stated frankly, putting on some kind of headset. It was true, but probably because all of Ashido's horned, pink being was eye-catching, not just her costume. 

Then they all walked outside. 

And saw Aoyama. 

.

Mitsuki's quirk was to secrete glycerin from her skin, which meant her skin quality was incredible and she looked much younger than she actually was. The sweat glands on Masaru's hands produced sweat with ignition properties. It was the combination of these two that had given birth to Sakura's quirk. 

Quirks that didn't take after either parent, whether it be direct inheritance or a combination, were called mutations. Sakura knew for a fact Midoriya's parents did not have powerful boosting quirks. That meant it was a mutation, which supported his claim that he hadn't realized he had one until he accidentally triggered it after the Sludge Villain.

Factually, everything added up. 

Then there was everything that was _not_ an objective fact. Why couldn't he just have told her? It was -_would_ have been- so easy, so simple, it wasn't as though there had been anything holding him back unless he just liked screwing with her brain, which she doubted was the case. She could still not understand it and hated the fact that it still weighed on her mind and shoulders, that Midoriya still lingered in her head.

She clearly hadn't lingered in his the last year. 

Honestly, it was almost as though she hadn't even been worth telling and that thought sparked the whole messy cascade of murky feelings and hot cinders to swirl again. Fucking hell, she should probably get those sorted out. 

Or get them out of her system by crushing Midoriya's head between her hands, but that didn't seem like a good idea when cameras were on her and there was a training exercise to complete. She wanted to go out there, wanted to feel the spike of adrenaline and heat of explosions and battle, but when paired up with Iida it was one of the few combinations where it worked better if she was the one staying behind. 

She almost felt like an infected wound: every time she cut out the pus to alleviate the pressure, it would simply build up again until it was swollen and irritated. She didn't even feel bad about comparing her thoughts of Midoriya to pus. 

For now. 

Cut it off. 

She'd have to do something about the wound one day, but for now-

For now. 

For now, another puncture it was. 

"You should go get them," she told Iida as they surveyed the room: plain, pillared, airy, a few crates pushed against the wall and then, of course, there was the fake missile situated right in the center of it. They had received a fifteen minute head start to roughly familiarize themselves with the layout as well as strategize and prepare. "The hallways are winding and narrow, your quirk is better suited for this than mine. Just be careful of the capture tape, they'll try to use it on you." 

"Of course!" Iida agreed, bringing his hands up in rigid movements, "I'll incapacitate them for sure, even if it pains me to bring harm upon my classmates." 

"Right," she muttered, legging toward the crates to render Uraraka's quirk useless, "but still give them a beating."

"A beating?" Iida echoed, and she grunted a confirmation as she heaved up the first one to chuck it out of the window facing the street she knew Midoriya and Uraraka wouldn't pass by on their way here.

"Fuck 'em up," she clarified, watching the sturdy wood sail out of the window before getting the second one. She'd probably have gotten splinters if it wasn't for the thick leather of her gloves. 

"A lady should not talk that way," he berated, but then struck a thinking pose, "though I commend your excellent villain act, I see that you are embracing the nature of this challenge! So will I." 

"Neat. Tell me if any of them slip by, I'll give them a greeting they won't forget." 

The third crate crashed against the concrete below, a mess of useless shards. 

"No need to worry about communication, I've heard I'm adept at it! I will not let those, er, annoying Heroes past me, they will fall before my villainy."

Sakura decided against answering and simply focused on shoving the last few crates out of the window. The room was now bare except for the papier mache missile. Chances were high the Hero team would end up splitting up as well to avoid losing due to the time limit, especially should Iida run into them. 

More crates went flying as the minutes trickled by.

"You were there at the practical exam with Midoriya, right?" Sakura asked, replaying the quirk apprehension test when he had thrown the ball like a lunatic. "What exactly his quirk? It's got to be some kind of powerful augmenting type." 

"It is indeed," Iida nodded vigorously, "I only saw him use it briefly, but he seemed to focus his power to first jump high up-" his arms whooshed up as though he just threw something, "-and then focused it into his arm. He punched the robot with tremendous power, it fell back and broke, much like he did as a backlash of his ability," and the arms whooshed back down. 

So all this time, Midoriya had been walking around with a quirk like that and just... 

Nope. 

Not now. 

"Then knock him if you get the chance," she decided, starting to roll her shoulders and neck, "and knock him good." 

Iida observed her for a moment, arms crossed. "I know what has to be done, no need to instruct me, although I cannot fault you for wanting involvement and understanding of a situation you will not be-“ 

"What?" Sakura started, and that was _not_ a voice crack there, she was _just_ that incredulous, but Iida was saved from the rest by All Might's booming voice: 

"The Heroes may now enter the building! Let the battle begin!" 

"I wish you the very best of luck, Bakugou-kun!" Iida called out so earnestly when leaving that Sakura didn't even shout a 'piss off' back for his previous stunt. Instead she waved him away and sighed deeply when he finally disappeared. 

Then things went quiet. 

And time passed. 

Sakura moved on to stretching her arms just to do something. Uraraka wouldn't use her Zero Gravity on Midoriya to levitate him up to this room from outside, right? A glance out at the street and front door told her that was not the case: no floating people anywhere. 

A few minutes in there was a muffled sound from a lower floor, shortly followed by Iida's voice in her earpiece: "I've made contact."

"Got it." 

The line went dead again. 

Sakura waited (somewhat) patiently. Continued light stretching exercises to warm up, on alert despite not having received any news from Iida about somebody slipping past or him having to pursue a single person and therefore lose track of the other. 

Just as she'd started stretching her calves, her earpiece glowed again and Iida reported: "They've split up, I'm close to Midoriya but Uraraka went the opposite direction. She'll find the evil layer in two minutes." 

"...evil layer," Sakura muttered, "alright, leave it to me." 

The room didn't have anything for her to use, save Sakura herself. The only way for Izuku to get away from Iida would be to jump and smash through the floors like Iida had described him doing against the Zero Pointer, but for that to be effective he'd have to know exactly in which room the missile was hidden. That was information only Uraraka could supply him with. 

That meant getting the earpiece away from her, which was dangerous since it put the rosette in close proximity to Uraraka's hands. Usually she wouldn't be worried about close quarters: she was a little taller then the brown-eyed girl and much more athletic, with quick reflexes, but still. She didn't want to be weightless. 

In the end, Sakura went out into the corridor where she then hid next to the entrance of the stairs, back against the wall. Soon she could hear Uraraka's little heels as she rushed up the stairs, pit-pat-pit-pat like rain. She'd probably used her quirk on her clothes to get rid of any extra weight like during the quirk apprehension test. 

A slow, quiet exhale, followed by a deep -still carefully, mutely slow- inhale. She could feel the oxygen flowing through her, curling her toes and getting mentally ready: clearing her mind until it was the cold tip of a blade, feeling her heart speed up and adrenaline course through her. Those were good signs: she'd get warm quickly and her hands were already starting to sweat in their gloves. 

She didn't as much as twitch when Uraraka's head poked through the opening to the stairs right next to her, and from Uraraka's perspective it must've been like something from a bad horror movie: in her peripheral vision there was suddenly a poison-eyed Bakugou next to her, steaming hand already flashing toward her. 

Uraraka threw herself forward with all her might, tumbling to the ground but avoiding getting her earpiece ripped away. Sakura's attention stayed on the small, glowing object, leaping after the brunette who was scrambling to her feet. 

She ducked beneath Uraraka's first swipe with ease, getting in close and grabbing ahold of a wrist, then twisted it around while side stepping so that she now had the other girl's arm pinned behind her back. The free right hand flashed back for a second swipe which Sakura arched away from, after which she kicked Uraraka's feet away and shoved the petite girl on the ground on her stomach before she could start kicking. 

She had pesky, pink bubbles around her wrists as part of her costume, making it difficult to hold her wrists without endangering herself with the proximity to her wiggling fingers. 

"Got Uraraka," Sakura rushed into her ear piece. 

"Deku-kun the missile is-" Uraraka had started into her own, and Sakura took the risk of holding both her wrists just above the pink bubbles with one hand to snatch the earpiece away, blowing it up and not feeling sorry if the sound of it travelled into Midoriya's ear before it got completely destroyed. 

"_Deku_," Sakura repeated, laughing hoarsely and eyes wide with disbelief, adjusting her grip when Uraraka managed to brush three of her fingers against her, now once again holding her wrists with both hands and safe from the pads of her fingers. "Now that is a really fucking funny nickname, don't you think?" 

"I, um," she started, visibly confused as to whether this was casual conversation to make time pass or something more ominous. 

"And you got him to like it so fast too, that's sweet of you, really sweet," Sakura continued, fingers tightening for a moment and finding that she was really starting to get annoyed: cute pink cheeks and a cute fluffy bob and a cute squeaky voice and a cute little laugh. Why could she do in three days what Sakura hadn't managed in a whole year? "Really fucking sweet." 

She cold feel the smaller girl trembling, and for a moment only looked down on her, cold and frustrated. Then she forced her shoulders to unwind a little and the razors to leave her voice and eyes, dragging them back inside and covering them with the words: 

"Villain act and all." 

"Uh-huh," Uraraka nodded imperceptibly, a quiver in her voice but relaxing a little.

Sakura wasn't sweet and she wasn't cute. She was rough and direct with a pretty face and athletic curves and a mean temperament to contrast Uraraka’s cheery disposition. 

"I would restrain you with something else," she said after a minute which had started becoming a little awkward, "but we villains didn't even get the shitty-ass capture tape. I mean," a snort of humor, "talk about favoritism." 

"R-right." 

"Also, you're useless at fighting, if you need to touch somebody to activate your quirk then get a damn lesson because at this rate somebody might lop your head off." 

"Or explode it," she added quietly, earning a huff of agreement:

"Yeah, or make it go watermelon." 

Silence fell again and Sakura made sure that though on alert, not to sink back into her muddled feelings. A deep breath. A slow exhale. Uraraka didn't have anything to do with her grudge. 

Then the floor erupted and Iida's voice came through her own earpiece: "Midoriya-kun has blasted a hole from the third floor, though he's too hurt to get up-" 

Sakura didn't listen to the rest, because she had her own problem to deal with: the quaking and flying debris had been great enough to hurl her off Uraraka. And Uraraka, more by accident than anything else, had managed to touch Sakura's knee with all five fingers and was now scrambling to her feet. 

The rosette found herself hating the weightless feeling that overcame her, making her hover and wobble uselessly just above the ground, frustration and determination rippling through her: "Stupid asspull quirk fuckery!" 

_Get rid of this- get Uraraka to use the quirk on herself and when she has to release, I'll be released as well_. 

She blasted herself forward through the air to catch up to the sprinting Uraraka, who was actually doing a good job scampering across the ruined floor when considering her heels. Not having gravity or weight meant her single blast, already toned down, hurtled her straight forward without ever slowing, bangs whipping around her face. 

The moment as she flew over the opponent she grabbed ahold of her shoulder, jerking her to an abrupt halt and using the second it took for Uraraka to regain her balance after the sudden tug to wrap her entire left arm around the brunette's neck. Her gravity-less presence made no difference in itself, but the explosion she fired with her right arm did, blasting them back and away from the missile. 

"Ack!" Uraraka coughed, falling back and gasping, "wha-" 

Sakura simply fired of another two and right before they hit the wall she let the other girl go, readying herself for the impact. As expected, Uraraka activated the quirk on herself to slow down mid-air, stopping short of the wall she'd been about to smack against. Sakura's feet hit the wall, knees bending to absorb the impact. It was jarring, but nothing she hadn't felt before. 

The worst part was still just wobbling around in the air. 

Uraraka hastily released her quirk before she could become nauseous, and Sakura grinned. Wide, smug, and sharp, and kicked off the wall before she could fall, landing in front of the girl and firing of a blast right her her. Uraraka dove away with wide eyes, getting to her feet quickly again and throwing what _would've_ been a heavy piece of the floor at her, which Sakura simply leaned to the side for to dodge before firing another blast to keep her at bay. She was situated perfectly between Uraraka and the missile, and though the by now fallen debris had provided the brunette with weapons the gaping hole in the floor meant the only way to the target was indeed right through Sakura's way. 

Her grin widened, eyes narrowing into slits and getting into a loose and ready stance, hands popping and heating up further. Bakugou Sakura was at home. 

"Come at me!" 

A minute later the buzzer for time-up sounded.

The villain team stood victorious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know that I'm just waiting to write "SACCHAN" one day.  
I've started drawing this Sakura, and I have to say it's not too bad yet: so far it's her clad in her workout clothes and her in school uniform. I could put it up for next chapter if you're interested?


	5. Budding Friendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot my drawings of Bakusaku back in my uni room which I won’t see again until mid January, so the link will be in the next chapter. Sorry! 
> 
> I've officially settled for Sakura's Theme Songs! "Intertwined" from Vinland Saga and "Main Theme" from The Queen's Gambit.

It wasn't like Sakura had been showing off her quirk during the test: in fact, she'd say her part in the victory was rather underwhelming. It had simply been a bad matchup: speed on offence in winding hallways against a boy who couldn't use his quirk, and raw power as defense in a spacious room against a girl with no combat ability or experience. 

Even so, she could feel mismatched eyes weighing heavily on her when she sauntered into the room where the rest of the class was waiting. 

She stuck her chin out, meeting Todoroki's gaze head on. Iron gray and a burning, searing cobalt blue. 

_Recommendations_. 

What part of that was fair? Recommendations were only ever considered from the best schools, it didn't serve a purpose. A bad school recommending a student with immense promise to help them past the entrance exam hurdle -which they were unlikely to pass due to a shitty curriculum, which that school would be very aware of- wouldn't be taken seriously. 

It was just good old elitism. 

In addition to sticking her chin out, she ground her jaw when it was Todoroki's turn and he won in seconds by turning the entire building into a chunk of ice. _Note to self: do not take shoes of in presence of dual-haired stoics_. Even leaning against the wall next to the thankfully quiet Shoji at the back of the room, seeing only the backs of her classmates, their stiffening postures and craning necks said enough. 

They didn't have to start murmuring in awe. It was already clear that he was powerful. Very powerful. 

First ice powers, and then what was probably fire powers since he didn't just thaw the building after winning: the water steamed, evaporating and curling in the air like a sauna. Ojirou and Hagakure never stood a chance. 

"Now _that_ is a quirk," the redhead, Kirishima stated, to which the bird-head, Tokoyami, answered: 

"And excellent control, following the walls without crushing anything and then thawing it all evenly without leaving scorch marks where he held his hand." 

Sakura wondered if anybody had said anything about her quirk. Probably not, she'd used it very moderately and not all too much save for the last minute of defending herself and the missile from zero-gravity debris, but even then she'd never pulled incredible moves or had to push herself. 

Any mention would've been of Midoriya's asspull quirk. 

Which hadn't done much. 

Fuck him. 

(She didn’t care to boast about her own quirk and didn’t want anybody to fawn over her but she felt so, so-)

Next up was Kaminari and Jirou against Yaoyorozu and Mineta: the latter were assigned as Heroes and had prepared well, though Jirou's Earphone Jack instantly found the room they were in and Kaminari electrocuted the shit out of the building. It was powerful, but lacked direction and hadn't knocked Yaoyorozu out. After that it was Ashido and Aoyama against Kirishima and Sero: it took the former, who were the Heroes, a while to find the room where the two villains had stayed, but after that the battle became messy and drawn-out, with Ashido and Aoyama having very offensive quirks while Sero and Kirishima stayed on the defensive to wait for the timer: Ashido had been about to win when Aoyama accidentally damaged the missile instead. Tokoyami and Asui as Heroes against Sato and Kouda went faster, with a win for the former team due to Asui's final leap. 

Sakura's lips were absently down tugged, but her eyes were keen and open as she watched the screen. 

Taking in the quirks. 

The strategies. 

The mannerisms. 

The people. 

.

Izuku knew he had messed up and that Sakura didn't want anything to do with him, but even when he tried to give her space he could feel her luminescent eyes glaring daggers into him. Even with ten people separating them when they queued for lunch her scathe had been biting into him. Even from many floors below her during the Combat Training, he'd felt something curdling his blood like an icy breath. 

Which was why he was now hurrying after her, watching her proud back and familiar high bun growing closer. It'd been two days since the Battle Training, and while he'd wanted to speak to her yesterday already she'd been walking with Ashido on her way out of school and talking about what he suspected was sports bras. 

That was not a conversation he was butting into. 

(He didn't think it mattered that much, in the end, what her conversation was about: if she was talking to somebody else he would never be able to bring himself to drag her away from that and force her to talk to _him_.)

(A bright sun with clear green eyes and then something latching on and making the sun divert its attention from the world to something frumpy and off and better left unseen, but no no it was okay now, he could be fully seen because he wasn't quirkless and that shouldn't have mattered in the first place-) 

Izuku still felt his nerves freeze over with anxiety and his heart tremble with too fast, too shallow beats that wouldn't make his blood flow properly when he called out: "Sak-k-kura-san!" 

To his surprise, she did stop. Some other students were still at school as well, slowly migrating out of the gates in the late afternoon light. It was a breathtaking backdrop, the best students of the world and she stood among them with her heavy boots (too heavy for the uniform style, and it was perfect) rooting her to the ground and telling everybody who tried to make her budge to take a fall down the stairs. She was placing her weight on one leg, cocking her hip and the breeze making her bangs dance and skirt lift just so. (If only she could see herself.) 

(Wait, she probably did.) 

Izuku found that he couldn't move closer. 

Her face was blank like it had been that day before the Sludge Villain attacked, apathetic and cold and this time it wasn't directed toward some thugs she beat up on the streets or a pro-militarization-of-Heroes gusher but solely on him, indifferent and a sneer lurking just beneath the surface. 

(And her eyes.) 

(Her _eyes_.) 

She didn't say anything, just kept on pinning him down with her gaze alone. It was clear that she knew exactly what she was doing, that she didn't need to say anything. For a moment, Izuku understood everything and understood her and understood the whole world, but then it fell apart again and the momentary revelation about the universe disappeared into nothingness. 

"I b-borrowed this quirk," he finally fumbled, breathless and fast and everybody else too far away to hear, "I couldn't tell you because I s-swore but I should have and will now because I- I messed up and I’m so sorry... I didn't have this quirk until somebody gave me their power which I know sounds crazy but it's true-" 

An expression, now. Her upper lip curled, eyes crinkling without forming lines on her skin, head tilting back, looking down at him and he was tiny, so tiny suddenly, Izuku was the size of a bug and she just _looked_ at him before turning on her heel. 

Leaving him.

Joining up with Jirou, who jerked her head in some kind of greeting between fellow rebels, and Kaminari, who gave her a surprised, instant thousand-watt smile which she rewarded with a neutral blink. The amber afternoon glow bathed the trio in an otherworldly light, framed by the greedily grasping trees and bustle of friendly people (friendly toward people like them, people with quirks, people who were people). 

Sakura was at the other end of the world by the time she reached the gates. 

.

On Saturdays, Sakura didn't let herself sleep in. On weekdays she got up at six-thirty in the morning to go to school, and on Saturdays she gave herself a generous extra hour before getting up. Weekdays was eight hours of sleep, while on weekends it was around nine and since she usually stayed up later on Saturdays, it mean she could sleep until nine or ten on Sundays.

Monday and Friday were the only days she didn't train in order to give her body rest, not even going for the usual jog. 

It was nice to run on Saturday mornings: fresh, crisp air, few people on the track around the ponds and the grassy clearing at the halfway point she used for practice was always empty. 

Less than twenty minutes after rolling out of bed, clad in her favored black sweatpants and rust-colored tank top, the door swung shut behind her and she set off. The April air was crisp, the sun still low but bright as it peeked blindingly above the treetops. The breeze a little stronger than before, making the leaves dance and rustle like a hymn when she reached the park. The route she usually took on weekdays was graveled and only a little over two kilometers, meant mostly to clear her head and work any tensions away: on weekends she took a longer way and stopped at the halfway point for a proper workout.

Sakura was fairly certain there were training facilities available at school: she should check into that. Maybe even find somebody to train with, even if not with quirks then just hand to hand combat to keep a good foundation. 

Sero and Kaminari did not have melee or close quarters oriented quirks, nor seemed like the types to go for that, and while it would probably be good for Hagakure to learn to hold her own in a fist fight Sakura wasn't about to ask her for sparring sessions. Ojirou seemed like a reasonable choice, even if she found him rather bland and downright boring. 

Boring was a large red X in her book. 

She shelved those thoughts for later, when she'd gotten a better grasp of the class. 

Her feet hit the ground harder, faster, and for a moment when she breathed in, she felt like there was only fresh air filling her lungs and body. 

.

Iida was elected as Class Rep through a whole series of events and shenanigans involving media and Midoriya that reeked of being favored by the universe. Sakura almost felt sorry for Yaoyorozu, who seriously should have gotten the post instead because _democracy_, but Midoriya's sacrificial plays during Combat training meant he held the respect of the dumber half of the class: Ashido and Kaminari were vocally on board with the change, as were Kirishima, Sero and Hagakure. The others didn't object, and neither did Sakura, so the swap of Class Rep was put through. 

Yaoyorozu should've spoken up instead of pouting to herself like a bummed out child, though. It was most likely the result of some kind of societal and familial expectations of politeness and ladylikeness and whatnot: everybody knew that girls being outspoken and argumentative meant they were arrogant and violent. 

Midoriya sunk back into the seat behind her as Iida held an improvised but jarringly sincere and straight-laced speech. She had a good view of this since Hagakure sat in front of her, not taking up much space. 

Sakura would say she was surrounded by idiots -which she basically was- but Jirou sat to her right, leaning her cheek on the palm of her hand. 

She had... 

...actually seemed pretty okay. 

.

Sakura respected All Might, admired him even, but that was where it ended.

(But not quite.)

(There was that image of his back in her mind, so far ahead that it was out of reach.)

(Protecting everybody. In the lead.)

She didn't really have a favorite hero: maybe Ryukyu, or even Eraser Head though she hadn't heard as much about him over the past few years since he had cut back on his Hero work in favor of glaring at a class as Aizawa-sensei the Yellow Sleeping Bag Worm with Dry Glares. 

All Might wasn't the greatest teacher. He wasn't awful: he recognized flaws in his students and encouraged them, but during the biweekly Basic Hero Training (Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, with its theoretical counterpart on Wednesday afternoon) it was only practical lessons. No dummies, no lectures, only scenarios and action. 

Sakura didn't mind, excelling whenever she got the chance, but wasn't oblivious to the fact that not everybody learned best this way. Some really needed to have actual hand to hand combat lessons, others seriously needed lessons in strategizing. 

Some were begging for a kick to the head. Especially Mineta, who liked eyeing her legs or ass: if he kept that up she'd end up throwing him out of the window one day, and it'd be sooner rather than later. 

"One day," she muttered in agreement with Ashido, who was once again comfortable with holding long conversations with many gestures when changing after PE, which was much more fun at U.A. than back at literally any other school. "How'd he even get in?" 

"I think restraining the robots was enough to earn the points," Asui said after a moment, to which Sakura side-eyed her to make it clear she wasn't meant to rationalize it. The frog girl didn't react, possibly because she was busy trying to button her uncooperative blouse. 

"Oh guys by the way," Ashido suddenly beamed, making Jirou stare at the ground when she started clapping her hands and leaning forward, "I baked this totally awesome cake yesterday and my parents won't be home until tomorrow, so you could all swing by after school and we can eat it together!" 

"Oh, that sounds amazing!" Hagakure chirped, "what kind of cake?" 

"Nothing special, it's almost-based," she replied, finally getting back to changing again, "ah, sorry if anybody has nut allergies..." 

"I don't so I'll be there!" Hagakure assured, probably fist pumping though it was rather unclear. 

Sakura didn't answer yet, stalling by redoing her bun. 

"I can't, I'm terribly sorry," Yaoyorozu murmured, shoulders hunching, while Jirou said: 

"Yeah, sounds cool." 

"I can't stay for very long, kero, but I'd like to come as well." 

"I'm sorry, guys," Uraraka winced, embarrassed, "I gotta get home on time..."

Sakura, quickly combing her finger through her bangs to make them fall right, bobbed her head: "I'm down." 

She didn't regret it, surprisingly. Ashido's house was pretty nice and her room was a baffling, almost disturbing cocktail of late disco-era with hints of goth lolita and _chill party girl_ elements. The cake was nice, and after Asui and Hagakure left it got nicer: Sakura didn't particularly dislike either of them, but the former was too preppy and the latter too straightforward for her to click with either. Initially she'd thought that, being blunt herself, she'd get along well with Asui but for every ten things she said -that were enjoyable and thoughtful and absolutely no problem- one would suddenly grate on her nerves for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was something silly like her round eyes and cautious idealism giving her an air of naivety Sakura knew was false. Asui wasn't a cynic, but she wasn't naïve either. She just... a blunt, rule-following, fifteen year old high school girl. 

There shouldn't be anything wrong with that. 

But Sakura still laughed with less harshness after she left. 

Jirou had plugged her phone to Ashido's portable speakers, playing a jamming but not infringing alternate rock tune as background music. Ashido had conjured a half empty bottle of cheap rose wine from her tiny fridge, just enough for a glass for each girl. 

"I mean, I always knew what my quirk entailed since mom has the same one," Jirou was shrugging, twirling her dangling earphone jacks, "but it was still a surprise when I could suddenly hear what my teacher was telling my dad during a meeting." 

"I discovered mine in kindergarten as well, one of the first weeks," Sakura remembered, images of her teacher's awed and doting expression flashing before her eyes. "My quirk is a combination of my parents', so it was a bit of a surprise when my palms started popping when I got excited to play with the dolls." 

"That's so cute," Ashido giggled, looking smug when hearing her fellow pink-haired classmate had loved mundane things like dolls, "mine's a total mutation, actually, so I win-" she stuck her tongue out, "I burned holes through my gloves in a temper tantrum when my parents told me it was time to go home. I'd been playing in the snow with my cousins." 

"I hope it snows this year," Jirou said after a moment, but then hastily added, "but I know it probably won't, it's only, like, once every five years that it snows enough to stay on the ground," but she wasn't able to completely erase the wistfulness despite her best efforts. 

"It snows plenty in other places in Japan, you could go there during the Christmas holidays or February midterms," Sakura pointed out, bringing her glass back up to her lips but finding it to be empty. The alien-like hostess seemed to have run into similar problems and slipped away to procure a second bottle. 

Jirou grinned, "yeah, we usually go for a week or so around new year. It's great with the snow and cold, makes it feel like I'm in a completely different place." 

Ashido returned, blurting out: "Apparently it's not the alcohol that makes you gain weight, but because the body can't store alcohol it focuses on breaking that down first, which means everything else with it usually just gets stores as fat." 

"Now's not the time," Jirou scrunched up her nose, holding up her empty glass for a refill, "timing." 

"What, you think I'm gonna think of saying something like that at school?" Ashido laughed, a rich and bubbly sound. The glasses she poured were more generous now. "Aight, watch me during bio, I'm sure Sniper-sensei will be happy." 

"Say it during Homeroom, it'd be worse," Sakura suggested. 

"Aizawa-sensei's glare," Jirou agreed. 

"Aizawa-sensei's glare," Ashido echoed, nodding. 

"To not getting any detentions this first week of school," Sakura raised her glass, feeling something warm and light stretch her lips into a smile. There were worse ways to spend a Friday. 

"Cheers," the two others chorused. 

The second refill soon vanished as well. It was a cheap rosé, but not particularly bad: simply watery and tasteless, which was fine in Sakura's book. Before long it was Ashido's turn to toast. 

"To not having partners in Combat Training who disqualify their team by sending a laser beam at the fake missile." 

Sakura snorted. Jirou bit back a snicker, and soon she was the one saying, "to not having an idiot partner for history who writes _Midnight_ instead of his own name." 

"To not having to worry about homework for two whole days." 

"To secretly wearing thongs." 

"To blasting heavy metal to anger my parents." 

"To becoming the first girl to be the Number One Hero." 

"To eating cake for dinner." 

"To expensive as hell leather jackets."

"To not being a fucking liar." 

"To not being straight." 

"To watching bad melodramas about rich housewives." 

"To wanting more wine."

She made it home alright, but for a moment when leaving the house, knowing Ashido and Jirou were still there since Jirou apparently lived a walking distance away, she'd (_Midoriya_) wondered if they didn't have more fun when she wasn't there (_betrayal_) or if that open invitation had even included her (_black eyes and black hair and an arrogant smirk_) or if she'd actually just latched onto something she wasn't actually needed or wanted or intended for (_no this was just the alcohol_) and if she wasn't wanted would they actually have the guts to tell her so or would (_Midoriya_) they eye her in secret and hide little cringes and snickers behind books (_she felt better and worse than everyone_) and was she strong, what was strength, what was this world because it shouldn't feel comfortingly familiar to simmer with hatred and loathing and doubt. 

.

He knew scorn when he saw it. Sharp little daggers in people's eyes, waiting to cut into somebody the same way they cut into the bearer, restless and tiny tiny tiny until they were _almost_ like needles, _almost_ because needles only stung with one end but these blades cut wherever you touched them. 

There was a high school girl at the bus stop, probably on her way home from a friend when considering the late hour. It was long-since dark, the streetlights casting a myriad of different shadows and colors in the city sprawl. She was beautiful, or would have been if it weren't for the way she stripped the world down to its ugly reality by looking at it over her delicately straight nose, rosy lips curling and clunky headphones firmly on. She wore a U.A. uniform which sat snugly around the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. 

Hero hopeful, _scornful_ Hero hopeful. 

Athletic, venomous eyes, messy bangs, confident stance, calloused hands, stubbornly set jaw even though she probably wasn't as sober as she looked. 

He didn't linger, moving on like a shadow through the alleyway, away from her. 

(Clear skin, long legs.) 

(_Beautiful_ eyes.) 

.

Sakura could barely remember everything about getting home: it'd been fun at Mina's with Kyouka (wait, those were first names), and she'd laughed a lot, told salty jokes and jabbed at political figures who were all wrong because _fuck_ this repressive, idealized, black-and-white society, she'd had wine and then cider and a shot of something cheap that tasted of cough drops, and she couldn't remember how late it had been when she realized she'd stayed many hours more than anticipated. 

There were warm, good feelings glittering in every memory, hazy and golden-framed. A vague recollection of focusing on getting on the right bullet train (it'd been the very last one) and not attracting attention. 

She couldn't remember details. 

She couldn't remember thinking about anything in particular. 

Good, that meant she'd just focused on looking unapproachable on her way home. 

It was time for a Saturday jog. Walk -run- off that hangover, get fresh air... and definitely shower afterwards. 

"Had fun?" Mitsuki smirked at the breakfast table. It was past nine so Sakura supposed she was later than usual, but not so late that it was a disaster. She rolled her eyes, but her brow was smoothed out and there was no rigidity in any of her movements. 

"Yeah. Yeah I did." 

Mitsuki was trying to contain a million different things, something she usually never tried to do and her inexperience was clear as the day. Eventually she tried to chide, "I have to impress that you were four hours later than you said you'd be, and that is not acceptable," but she was so obviously suppressing a giddiness and girlish curiosity that she actually made a dismissive gesture after those words and nullified their content further by adding: "...is there anybody you _like_?" 

Sakura glared. "Mom." 

Mitsuki sipped her tea. From the other end of the table, Masaru peeked over the edge of the newspaper he'd been hiding behind. His eyes were now magnified not only because of his glasses but also concern. "It's completely fine if you do, just... go easy on the poor boy." 

"Dad." 

"Doesn't have to be a boy," Mitsuki added, looking even more interested, "you were at a girl's place, right?" 

Sakura rushed out to go jogging, because as hazy as her memories were she suspected she'd actually pecked Kyouka on the lips at some point when dancing (jumping around) to a particularly jamming tune. 

It'd been nice. 

(A lifetime ago, her first relationship had been with that argumentative brunette girl, Tenten, a hazy memory from a hazy lifetime that barely stayed with her nowadays.)

(But those were nice memories, for once.) 

.

"S-Sakura-san!" 

The girl in question threw a frigid glance over her shoulder: Midoriya was trying to catch up with her in the crowded corridor. Sakura ignored him and kept on going. She had no interest in what he might have to say, especially not after the weird bullshit he'd tried to tell her last time. 

He still caught up with her in the end. Like everybody else she had to wait in line before getting her lunch. What made it worse was that Uraraka and Iida had caught up to Midoriya as well, forming a cheerily chatting trio behind her. Their voices grated on her nerves even though Kaminari and Kirishima were being much louder and cheerier in front of her. She didn't mind them. 

She didn't even mind Iida too bad, and her dislike of Uraraka was admittedly misplaced, but hearing Midoriya sound so light and caring just- 

Fuck fuck _fuck_ him. 

"It was a great presentation, Sakura-san," Midoriya said, referring to the presentations on support items everybody had been forced to do for English. 

"Duh," she said, not turning to look at him. 

"I thought yours was interesting, actually," Uraraka turned to Iida, "I had no idea _Herogearo_ was such an old brand..."

"Indeed it is!" 

Eventually, Sakura was handed her bowl of lunch (oh _yes_, go Thai noodles) and left the trio in favor of sitting with a new constellation of classmates: Kyouka and Mina were there, but so was Kirishima, Kaminari and Aoyama. Kirishima and Kaminari looked surprised but not averse to her addition, while the two girls didn't react aside from greeting smiles. 

"As I was saying," Kyouka went on, "the album was ridiculously expensive so I'm waiting a while before buying it."

"Couldn't you just download it?" Kaminari asked with furrowed brows, "it doesn't have to be a vinyl-" 

"Yes it does," she insisted, sitting up straight, "it's the whole process of it, the _feeling._ The sound, the preparation, keeping it in the vinyl box, all of it." 

"It's got a comfy old-school feel," Mina agreed, "and in a better way than those cassettes, that's for sure!"

Sakura winced, "grandma uses cassettes, they always have to be rewinded and it's such a pain." 

Aoyama shivered. "_Oui_, we 'ave the same at my _grandmère's_ 'ome. It is a tragic system, truly." 

"I've never used them," Kirishima said, considering it, "though there used to be a gramophone at my grandfather's. Rise of the Valkyries was my favorite as a kid." 

"Didn't think you knew your way around classical music," commented Kyouka, looking very suspicious.

The redhead laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "Nah, it's the only one I know. I'd listen to it and make up all sorts of adventures in my head as I ran around playing Hero."

"Yeah, can relate to that," Kaminari grinned, "during summer I'd put the radio outside and start climbing the trees. Broke my arms, too, when I tried to climb faster than the punk rock." 

Kyouka snorted into her glass of water and muttered, "part of your brain too." 

While Kaminari squawked his defenses, Mina sighed happily, "I'm _so_ looking forward to tomorrow! I've always wanted to see Thirteen up close, do you think her voice sounds so hollow and echo-y in real life as well or is it just magnified because of the TV?" 

"It's probably some of both," Sakura rationalized, "it'll obviously still be hollow, though- _Mineta I swear if you ever look at Mina's boobs again I'll make damn fucking sure they never find your scattered body_." 

Mineta, who'd slowed down on his way past to ogle Mina's ample breasts, scurried off. 

"Perv," Kyouka scowled, earphone jacks swaying like angered snakes. Kirishima was frowning as well, while Mina looked torn between embarrassment and fury. "He better watch out if he ever gets to fight me." 

"Won't be much left of his eardrums then," Kaminari agreed, not looking up from his plate as though afraid he might accidentally (or not so accidentally) look at the wrong places. 

Sakura's eyes had yet to leave Mineta's tiny form. They stood bright, eerie, like pale green cat eyes. They were also lidded and narrowed. Her expression was blank.

(Going on runs and practicing in the park wasn't enough.)

(Her anger was starting to build back up inside.) 

(Harsh hot embers.) 

"In any case," Mina went on, "do you think it would be weird to ask a teacher for their autograph?" 

"Nah man, I'll probably ask All Might for his soon," Kirishima laughed. Sakura finally tore her attention back to the group to give him an unimpressed look. 

"But you already got it, we all do," she deadpanned, "it's at the bottom of our U.A. acceptance letter."

"But that's not personalized," he argued, "imagine having a personal note to go with it!" 

A single, pale eyebrow rose up. "I'm pretty sure your acceptance letter is personalized, dipshit." 

"Well, if you guys are asking teachers for autographs, tell me so that I can get in line!" Kaminari declared, "no way am I going up to All Might all alone with a pen and notebook." 

"All you 'ave to do is follow _moi_," Aoyama stated with a twinkle, "I shall go first and stand in the light- 'ow much sparkle won't that be?" 

"Yeah, okay," Kyouka snorted, "we'll ask after you sparkled some." 

"You're getting one as well?" Sakura asked, incredulous. Kyouka went a little red and jutted her chin out. 

"Well, no, but I mean, yeah, d-don't look at me like that!" 

Mina announced, "I'm gonna ask them tomorrow after class, both Thirteen and All Might are teaching then." 

"Sounds like a plan," Kirishima said. Kaminari agreed. 

"Fuck it, whatever," Sakura shrugged, "just don't think I'll gawk alongside you fangirls." 

"No, you're too cool for that," Kyouka snickered. Sakura rolled her eyes, but felt a grin creep up her face. 

"Says the one with war paint." 

"It's a fashion statement!" 

Sakura laughed. "Of course it is." 

.

"But please remember," Thirteen had stressed shortly before Hero School excitement and teen cheer melted away in face of reality opening up (quite literally) in front of them, "some quirks can also cause great harm, so please be careful when you use them, consider your actions and their impact. A Hero defends and protects, they do not cause harm when it can be avoided and they do not take lives." 

In face of the villains swarming out of the warp, Sakura felt power surge through her. It felt hot and thirsty, but was also underpinned by a very rational, sinking fear. The USJ was isolated, the alarms weren't going off, she was surrounded by rookies, there were so many villains, they clearly hadn't just stumbled in here and decided to prank someone, All Might wasn't here, Aizawa could only take so many, too many unknown and suspicious variables, and Thirteen as a Rescue Hero not a combat-type- 

This was bad. 

It sickened her that she was excited. 

(It had been so, so _long_.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was this? A breather chapter!?  
I wrote it in one go, went back and cringed so hard that I ended up doing Delete and Rewrite for the majority of it. Drawings up next time! 
> 
> Please note that I think Izuku is a cinnamon roll in need of hugs and enjoy his character. However, this is written from Sakura's perspective after he messed up Big Time and has a lot to make up for. She's not forgiving or gentle, and therefore the tone won’t be either.


End file.
